Stings Like Fire
by Gabi217
Summary: There's a fine line between girlishness and womanhood, especially when a certain blonde male is involved with the dark side. What will happen when her liferisking task will save his life? Will she take it, or run away? Pretty good... gimme time!
1. Default Chapter

**Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

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**Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life? _**

* * *

It'd been two hours. _TWO HOURS_, and yet the school day was already the crappiest fucking school day in history. She had dropped her bagel on the way to the train, tripped and smacked her head on a metal rod, (which left a large welt on her forehead), and had her whole family screaming at her at the top of their lungs. Harry had called her a bratty bitch in public, Ron had magically shrunken her skirt a size too small by accident (it was irreversible), and as soon as they got in the car Hermione was already bitching at her about all the good grades she should get and blahdy fucking blah. _'You should buy more books,_' she said. '_You should get those quills checked,'_ she said._ 'You should listen to me because I am smarter and I do everything right.' _It came to the point where she was fed up. So after they'd all gone through the wall and had entered Platform 9 ¾, she spun around quickly, finger pointing strictly at her brother's chest, an angry; annoyed look on her face.

"I've had enough of your shit, Ronald Weasley. I don't care what you, or **him** or even your smart-ass know-it-all of a girlfriend thinks of me. I am me, Ron, and I'm not fucking perfect, and it would do me a **whole** lot of good if you'd all just **shut up** and leave me the whole fuck alone!" she screeched, and stomped off. But nearby, hidden by the stone column listening pleasantly to the stricken silence of the Fabulous Three, was a very smug looking Draco Malfoy, who was watching a fuming, hot Ginevra Weasley storm away. 'So she does have a bit of spunk in her. That'll come in handy…' he smirked, and set off to follow the angry, wild redhead who was lounging comfortably amidst a group of Slytherin Girls who were questioning her. They parted immediately at Draco's approach, and their eyes locked. Silver and brown met and created a steely stare.

"Malfoy," she said, voice bold and strong, but soft all the same.

"Weasley," he drawled back to her. The whole world stopped, as the two stared.__

"Yeah?" she murmured, standing up and smoothing her tight skirt.

"Care to take a chat?" he spoke coolly, as his eyebrow punctured the skin on his forehead. She looked him up and down, nervousness practically written all over her face. The girls in the group looked at Ginny like she'd been chosen to win a billion galleons, respect flickering in their eyes. She loved that look, and decided she'd do anything to get it.

"Not at all," she replied softly, following Draco's billowing cloaks and soft, semi-long platinum hair. As she glanced over her shoulder, her brother and his tiny posse stood, mouths hanging open, watching the person they used to hate so much with longing and shock at what she was doing…

"Oh, my God," Hermione whispered. Harry's fists clenched at his sides.

"I'm gonna kill him," he muttered, stepping forward. Hermione's hand on his arm stopped him straight, as she swore she saw Ginny's amiable laugh and smile as Draco grinned at a joke he'd cracked at one of the first-years. She followed him willingly up the train steps, down the hallway and out of sight.

"What the hell's she think she's doing, following 'im like that? Has she gone mental?" Ron cried out, fists clenching and unclenching in rage.

"Maybe it's just a phase, or something. Who knows, with the way she's been acting. Maybe she thinks we've been treating her bad, or something," she sighed, dropping her hand from Harry's arm, suddenly feeling bad. "Maybe it's payback, or something. You know how she is."

They stood and watched the train in silence, and out of the early, stillness she heard Ginny's high-pitched, adorable giggle. Harry frowned, making sure Hermione was done with her 'maybes' and started running forward.

"I'm still gonna kill 'im," Harry now muttered again. Hermione smacked the side of his head.

"What?" he growled, throwing his ferocious gaze at her. She shrunk backwards, hands up in surrender.

"Leave her alone for a few, would you? When we board the train, we'll find out what's going on," she murmured. Ron nodded, feeling strangely calm. He figured that maybe it WAS payback. After all, he had hexed her favorite skirt with an irreversible spell that made it too small. But after thinking this for awhile, he wondered if it was Ginny who had lured Draco to her.

* * *

She'd changed. Nobody could deny that; nor could any of the Gryffindor boys. Guys broke up with their girlfriends just to scope out the magnificent Ginny Weasley, who wasn't even aware of how beautiful she was. She'd learned to calm her normally frizzy red hair into a calm waterfall of straight red that cascaded down her shoulders. On some brilliant days, though, she would bewitch it and twist it into curls that sparkled lightly, no matter what the weather was. They bounced with a springy happiness that seemed to be internally eternal…

Her hips expanded, and her butt seemed to fill out before their eyes. Her chest inflated, too, and her face grew fuller instead of just this thin little line of skin. Her brown eyes sparkled lightly everywhere she went, happy or sad. And yet she didn't know she was beautiful.

* * *

Ron sighed. What was going on with this baby sister of his? Was it finally time for him to let go; let her live her own life? Hermione touched his arm gently.

"Let's get on the train, Ron. Maybe we can find a good compartment," she muttered, still staring at the train. He strained a nod and together the Fabulous Three moved from their rooted spot to the steps, wondering what Ginny was doing.

Kids on the train laughed lightly. Sytherins stood near Draco Malfoy's compartment, in hopes of hearing some of the conversation that blared on inside. All they heard were laughs and snickers, Ginny's high-pitched giggle and Draco's low male rumble. Words couldn't be distinguished, and for that Ginny was glad.

She had followed him down the tiny hallway, taking great care not to step on his trailing cloak. He lead her to the end of the train, his Head Boy cabin door seeming strangely dark before he opened it up. As he lead her inside, she almost laughed.

Along one wall was a tiny trolley of sweets and snacks and drinks, and along another was a bed-looking couch thing, silk sheets tucked into the wall and mattress, small white throw pillows toward the armrests. Floor to ceiling windows showed a great view of the other side of the train station. She smiled, but frowned.

"They're bewitched," he said, quietly, answering her silent question. "So I can see things and people, but things and people can't see me," he smirked.

"I don't want to know," she rolled her eyes, but followed his lead as he sat down on the couch-bed thing.

He tried hard not to pay attention as her short skirt rode up a little bit. He gulped quietly, swallowing the block that was growing there. He cleared his throat instead, hoping to break it up and swallow it instead, but it stayed there. His eyes traveled from her silent, window-searching eyes, to her nose, to her luscious lips; to her neck, to her collarbone, to her breasts. He swallowed hard again, and followed her gaze in hopes to prevent the growing of the block and the uneasiness in his pants. She cleared her throat.

"So," she started off.

"So," he repeated, mocking her.

"What's up?" she asked, rolling her eyes again. Oh, how she rolled her eyes…_snap out of it, Drake. _

"Nothing much. Just wanted to chat with you. So, what happened out there?" he asked, curious. She turned to him with a quizzical look.

"Out where? About what?"

"Out on the platform, to your brother and them about them not respecting you, or something," he explained.

"Oh," she said, realization dawning on her. "I'm just fed up, I guess. Tired of their shit."

He nodded. Was it just her, or was he scooting closer?

"Well, I've changed up, you see. But I'm still a Slytherin."

"Yeah…so…" she trailed off, voice quaking, as she fumbled her hands in her lap. He stared at the floor.

"Well…if you want…we could get back at him."

Her head shot up, with a new happiness.

"Get back at my brother? And all his stupid little friends?"

Draco's smirk reappeared.

"Yeah, I guess. But we have to become friends, in order for this all to work. And we have to get used to each other being…erm…close," he said, scooting close again.

She swallowed, and looked over at him.

"Alright," she murmured, scooting closer still. Her heart pounded. What the hell was she doing?

He sighed.

"You don't believe me, do you," he asked quietly, shaking his head in an adorable way to flick the stray platinum hair out of his eyes. The smoldering silver-blue bit at her mind. Her mouth fell open slightly, lost in the place she wanted to claim.

"Ginny?" he murmured, looking up to meet her clouded gaze.

Was that her name?

She quickly shook from her reverie with a mental slap and focused on his eyes once more.

"I believe you. If you say you've changed, then you've changed; I guess," she almost whispered, and noticed that his face was so close.

He stared back at her. Her coffee colored eyes reflected her thoughts and her lovely smile, sparkling gently in the cloudy light from the window. Small tendrils of her hair had dropped from her red headband, and he had an urge to take it in his pale hands and twist it around his finger. His lips parted slightly as he glanced at her own; the beautiful pink softness that almost begged him to touch. He breathed slowly.

There was silence. His minty breath caressed her lip ever so slightly, the ice-cold warmth sending a slight jolt up her spine. But she was hardly ready or aware when ever so slowly, Draco's mouth followed hers and their lips were almost touching. She closed her eyes, waiting what would happen.

* * *

From the door window three silent heads were staring wide-eyed into Draco's compartment. Hermione could barely contain her anger and wild shock until Ron spun around quickly, hand slamming into the wall, and gave a loud cry of, "Bloody hell!"

Harry's face was glued to the window. His eyes were large in his glasses and his hands were plastered to the door, one reaching for the handle until Hermione reached out and snatched it up in her own.

"No, Harry. Don't," she said, shock still visible on her own pale face.

"Don't you 'don't' me, Hermione. What she's doing isn't right and you bloody fucking know it," he growled, ripping his hand away, reaching again for the door handle. But Hermione had learned to be persistent. As he was about to touch the shiny gold, she smacked his hand and kicked him in the shin.

"I _said **don't**_," she grunted in reply, as he fell over onto the black carpeting, clutching his lower leg.

"Have you gone mental? What the hell did you do _that_ for?!" he cried out, pain written on his cringing face.

"Now I know what she means. We all bother her far too much and boss her around like she's a house elf. And with you calling her a bratty bitch, I wouldn't go in there and rain on her parade, if I were you," she growled, her eyes narrowing. Harry's face fell slack, still rubbing his shin.

"Yeah, well…you didn't have to kick me, you know," he muttered, and with help stood up and leaned on the wall. Hermione spun around, completely forgetting about her ecstatic boyfriend.

"Ron?" she murmured, approaching him slowly, from where he was sitting in the middle of the hallway, mouth moving but no words coming out.

"Ron? Are you ok?"

He muttered something quietly.

"What was that? I can't hear you," she replied softly, kneeling down beside him, a hand on his shoulder as she studied his anger-contorted face.

"I _said_ 'she's a stupid, bloody fucking two-faced bitch of a sister to do that to us'," he practically yelled. Hermione stood up.

"Her choices are her choices, _Ronald_. She'll do as she damn well pleases," she muttered, turning around and stalking away from the two.

As she walked away, the same song floated through Hermione's sighing head and a bliss-filled 6th year.

_I am, vindicated_

_I am selfish, I am wrong_

I am right; I swear I'm right 

_I swear I knew it all along_

_And I am flawed_

_But I am cleaning up so well_

_I am seeing in me now_

_The things you swore you saw yourself…_

Was she floating? She was falling. She bloody swore she was falling but yet she felt sky-high all the same. What was this sensation? She'd never felt it before, yet she wanted it to end and continue forever at the same time. Draco's soft lips, his tongue that was softly touching hers in a wild dance, his hair that felt soft to her aching fingertips, his icy-hot hands that were touching her back so softly she thought she would die. Yet her eyes were closed as her thin hands caressed his face, her thumbs running over his closed eyelids gently. Yet she didn't know what she was doing when she pulled away.

"Friends," she heard herself whisper. _Friends?_ He gave her a puzzled, astonished look.

_"Friends_?" he murmured, surprised, eyes full of hurt. "Friends?" he repeated.

"Good friends," she confirmed. What the hell was she doing?

"Good friends," he repeated again. His eyes cast down to the floor.

She was quiet.

"So, we're…friends, I guess," he stated.

"Yes. Friends, Drake," she breathed out, touching her lips with her fingertips. "It has to be this way. I don't know you all that well, and I'm not the casual sex type of person. Infact, I'm not the sex type of person at all," she murmured, half laughing. _Oh, _he thought, _she's a virgin._ He sighed.

"I never said you were," he muttered. "I just..." he trailed off, thinking. "I just didn't think you'd let me kiss you, and then pull away and say we should be friends."

She studied his face, hand strangely resting on his shoulder. His eyes shone dully with a gloomy glow, as he studied his hands. _Oh,_ she thought, _he's probably not used to rejection._ She sighed, and dropped her hand so it rested on his leg.

"I'm such a bloody idiot," she muttered to herself. He lifted his head in hopes of hearing she'd changed her mind.

"Pardon?" he perked up, eyes sharp with hope.

"Nothing," she murmured. Outside, the train shrieked and came to a slow, steady stop.

They sat in silence until the train was completely stopped. Draco stood up first, and put out his hand. "I'll share a carriage with you, if you'd like," he approached quietly. She looked up at him for a moment, weighing her options. She could take one alone, or she could share one with Draco. She chose the latter and gripped his hand softly with hers.

"I'd like that," she smiled amiably. They walked down the hallway, hand in hand for some odd reason, passing the Fabulous Three on the way down the steps. Hermione merely nodded, while Harry and Ron struggled to get loose of Hermione's shoulder grip to punch the living hell out of him.

* * *

**Todah! And BTW...Disclaimer: I do not own any of Harry Potter; the characters or the names or anything that J.K. and Warner Brother's have created and presented to the public. I only own the plot, and I also do not own The song 'Vindicated' which was created by Dashboard Confessional and I do not wish to collect any of the credit. Thank you. **


	2. Chapter Two

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Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

**Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and false sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…what happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_**

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Hermione struggled wildly to keep Harry and Ron under control as Draco slipped a sly smile over his shoulder, leading Ginny out toward an empty carriage near the center.

Her hand was still locked in his, even as he helped her into the carriage, following suit. He sat down beside her, shielding her from the bitter coldness, hands still gripped together.

"My God," Harry muttered as they passed. "If she was any closer to him, he'd be wearing her."

Hermione sighed.

"Her decisions are her decisions, Harry…" She squeezed Ron's hand briefly.

"Well, she makes some horrible decisions then, going off and letting fucking _Malfoy_ stick his nasty forked tongue down her fucking _throat_," Ron growled. Hermione pulled hard on his hand, tearing him away from the awfully pleasing (to anyone besides those three) view of Draco and Ginny.

Ginny, on the other hand, was fairly comfortable with her newfound friend. She knew that's what they were, because they had to be. She didn't know why she'd said what she had, but she felt that she needed more time before molding this friendship into something more than that.

He looked at her while she was looking ahead, unaware of his wandering gaze. Her soft brown eyes were sparkling gently in the soft light of the near-evening, and he wondered what she was thinking. A song ran through his head.

_But your taste still lingers on my lips _

_Like I just placed them upon yours_

_And I starve __I starve for you_

_But this new diet's liquid_

_And dulling to the senses_

_And it's crude_

_But it will do._

He remembered that same look the moment he'd kissed her. Her eyes were glossy, sparkling in the damp light, staring through you like an x-ray. Which was exactly why he was slowly leaning over, ready to kiss her once again.

He realized she was humming. Actually, he realized a lot of things. The fact she smelled of cinnamon, the way her hair was always tucked behind her left ear, the way her fingers tapped when she hummed. She shivered and he snapped back, unaware he'd been leaning so close. And then he was brought back to her humming. As he listened quietly, he recognized the song as the one whose lyrics had just brushed through his head.

When they came to the front of the school, he helped her down. But as he tried to move away, her fingers still lay intertwined with his own, her eyes pleading, 'Don't leave me here alone.' He sighed warily but grinned on the inside, helpless to the fact that this girl needed him as much as he needed her.

They departed at the Great Hall, sitting painfully through numerous sortings and glorious greetings from old friends. Draco snuck several hidden glances at Ginny, and a few times he looked up and saw her smile. He only caught her staring twice, in which once he winked and the next time he was tempted to smile. He only turned away quickly and focused thoughtlessly on the Headmaster.

Hermione side-glanced at Ginny all throughout dinner. Harry glowered over his food the whole time, and Ron found himself glaring daggers at the person of opposite table.

They let themselves out of dinner. Draco first, Ginny oddly compelled to follow. She collected her schedule from her Head of House, and continued out the humongous doors.

Draco met her just outside. She handed him her schedule, and he handed her his.

"My God, woman. You never said you knew so much," he muttered, inspecting her schedule, which consisted mostly of his 7th year classes.

A pink tint crawled up her neck.

"Well, hey. When you practically live with a know-it-all, things rub off on you."

He laughed slightly.

There was an easy pause as he glanced from the schedule to her a few times.

"What?" she cried out finally, curious as to his funny looks. He grinned mischievously and shook his head.

"Nothing," he murmured.

He studied her schedule again, glancing up at her once more.

"What?!" she cried out again, exhasperated. He merely laughed and tousled her hair in a brotherly way, and she giggled as she calmed it. He reached out with a hesitant hand and brushed a few stray pieces behind her left ear. She reached up gently and touched his hand, his skin cool yet warm all the same. His fingers tickled her cheeks as he tapped his fingertips along the side of her face, making her giggle slightly.

She pulled his hand down gently and wrapped her fingers in his, and he gently chucked her under the chin, playfully. Yet she wasn't aware of the scene Draco was creating on purpose. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stood before the Great Hall doors, staring intently at the 'couple' who seemed to be gently enjoying themselves.

Draco grabbed her hands, pulling her along. "Let me walk you to your Portrait," he murmured. They skipped up staircases and laughed as they tripped one another, finally falling in a heap on the top landing infront of the Fat Lady.

She rolled over him idly, giggling at the stupid, dazed look on his face from when she'd tripped him and stubbed her toe before him, letting him fall and falling ontop of him. He laughed a deep, strong laugh, and she decided she liked that laugh alot. She rolled over and propped her elbows up on his stomach, staring into his face. With an indolent hand, she reached over ever so gently and brushed the silver blonde hair out of his eyes. It was at that moment, without thinking, he reached out behind her neck and pulled her close.

Her eyes were closed, and she could feel the warm breath from his parted lips on her own. His touch rang throughout her, affecting every bit of her, right down to her toes. She didn't want his hesitation; it was a useless barrier between them. So while his eyes inspected her closed face, she pushed herself up and kissed him.

Again, Ron couldn't believe his eyes as they rounded the 2nd floor banister. Up above, straight ahead, were two pairs of feet idly rubbing up against each other, a flash of red hair, a flicker of blonde. Although this time, he sighed. Hermione had spent most of supper lecturing them on Ginny's choices and mistakes, and Ron had learnt that if she made them, she would be the one to deal with the consequences. And he really did need to give her some privacy. Harry, on the other hand, was quietly fuming behind him, hands clamped in fists at his upper arms as he crossed them. Hermione grumbled something incoherent and cleared her throat rather loudly, and she swore she saw Ginny jump about two feet into the air as she scrambled off of her friend.

Draco sneakily hid his smile as she moved off of him, and with her help slipped up beside her. At the sight of the trio, her hand unconsciously slipped into Draco's, who gave a reassuring squeeze.

The pink tint was crawling up her neck again. He slowly shifted her out of the way, letting the trio slowly pass. Draco roughly caught an angry glare from Harry, but the other two continued on as if they'd witnessed something normal. Ginny turned to Draco, trembling slightly, and said, "Meet me out here tomorrow night, at 9:45 sharp. Don't be late, please," she whispered, and squeezed his hand again. He only nodded, and smiled weakly. He wanted to kiss her again, have her kiss him again, anything to make their lips touch. But she only sighed, and with one last lingering stare slipped away through the open portrait.

* * *

He started to hum, gently.

_I only watched her walk but she saw it_

_I only heard her talk but she saw it_

__

_I__ only touched her lips but she saw it_

_I only kissed her lips but she saw it_

_Gonna have to tell her tonight…_

_She only blinked her eyes but I saw it_

_She only swung her hair but I saw it_

_She only shook her hips but I saw it_

_She only licked her lips, but I saw it_

_Gonna have to tell her, gonna have to tell her tonight_

He descended the stairs ever so slowly, fingers brushing his lips, gently, reliving that last kiss; welcoming a full night of peaceful sleep, only to have the same song stuck in his head the next day. But he didn't mind it much.

* * *

The next day passed without a hitch. With only lingering glances at meals and sidelong stares during classes, they didn't talk. He walked her to class once, and as soon as he came within 3 inches of her she reached out for his hand. During dinner, Draco slipped out of the Great Hall quietly. Only 4 people noticed his departure, and one of those four took it as a hint. She stood up quietly to follow, feeling strong eyes on her back. A convulsion of anger and pain swept through her. She only straightened her back further and flipped her hair over her shoulder, leaving the hall in a defiant stride.

He was waiting for her in the Entrance Hall. Glancing at his watch, it read 8:47. He sighed.

"Almost 53 minutes till we're supposed to meet up," he said quietly, but she couldn't hear him. She was glancing every now and again from their linked hands to the Great Doors.

"Let's go outside," she said. He reluctantly agreed, and laughed as she stepped out into the light rain. She took another bouncing step and twirled around, drops collecting angelically on her soft auburn curls. She once again looked at their intertwined fingers and tugged gently, giggling as his weight was thrown and was pulled into the rain.

He bumped into her gently, smiling softly as he ran a hand through her damp hair. She brushed his aside from his eyes and as he was about to take the many chances to lean in and kiss her, she turned and bounced away, laughing into the rain.

She twirled around in semi-circles for nearly 10 minutes, and he made no move to stop her. She twisted and turned and her red hair flew wildly, the only bright thing in the rain besides her smile. She glowed from the inside out, happiness radiating from her. He couldn't help but be touched by it.

She reached out to him, pale hand pointing at him with perfect precision, right at his heart. With a great vacillation, he grasped her hand in his and he danced with her, each of them laughing as they stomped on each other's toes. Her hand was planted gently yet firmly on his right shoulder, the other gripped tightly in his left hand. Together, they looked just like a teapot. At imagining this little thought, she laughed and opened her mouth to the rain.

His watched beeped twice. The word "_DUTY"_ flashed quickly across the face and disappeared. He pressed a finger to her open, frowning lips to stop her sadness.

"9:45," he murmured in her ear, finger still pressed to her lips. Stooping down gently, with every intention to stay away forgotten, he kissed her. And then just as fast, he disappeared into the rainy night.

* * *

She reappeared before the Fat Lady's portrait at exactly 9:45, leaning against the stonewall in the shadows, her objective to not be seen.

Out of nowhere, Filch appeared down the hallway. Draco's icy hair flashed into view, and she saw him very near Flinch. She turned her head and waited for the argument and excuse, but they never came. Before long Filch's torchlight disappeared, and Draco's icy touch jolted shivers up her spine as he neared her. She instinctively reached for his hand, clutching it tightly as she turned quickly and whispered into the shadows where he was hidden.

"How'd you get past Filch?" she murmured into the night, slowly beckoning him closer. She clutched her book-bag to her side, and she saw that his was slung across his shoulders. He came into view easily, slipping past the light and darting like a snake into her shadows. Stealth, some would call it. She only called it sly.

"I snuck," he whispered back to her, lips forming quiet, sharp words that attacked her mind and made her think. A sneaky smirk crept onto her lips.

"I said 'snuck', not 'suck'," he said, answering her nasty smirk and rolling his eyes. "You have such a wandering mind."

"It does wander too far," she said, and immediately wished she hadn't. His trademark smirk was starting to reform again. She gulped. "I mean…"

"You don't have to explain-," he laughed.

"Good," she interrupted.

"-because I don't want to know," he finished, smirking again.

A blush crept to her cheekbones.

"Oh come on, you've got to have at _least_ a bit of a nasty mind," he murmured, squeezing her hand. She didn't reply, only looked away. She wouldn't tell him of her dreams. It would possibly ruin her.

He broke into her thoughtful silence.

"Mine or yours?" he questioned, gesturing to his bag. She weighed her options gently and after thinking of a great fiasco from running into the trio, she murmured, "Yours."

Enough was said.

At least an hour later, she was curled up in an armchair before the fire, him slouching on the floor with his back against the front of the chair. Her legs dropped over the arm as she was reading, one bobbing up and down as she hummed gently. A song he'd heard before. Before he knew it, he was humming along with her. And neither of them seemed to notice.

_Won't see your face in the mirror_

_Won't stand it at all_

I'm seeing, I've been clearer 

_When I figured it out_

_In my life I dream about you_

_You're everything everything I wanted you_

_I met someone but I want you_

_And now I only stand and fall for your love_

_Love_

_Love_

_Say give love_

_When might I look so clearly_

_I need a "known"_

_When darkness comes to me _

__

_I would live alone_

_In my life _

__

_I dream about you_

_You're everything I wanted wanted you_

_In my life _

__

_I dream about you_

_Well in my dream I need only you_

_You're everything everything I wanted too_

_I met my love and it was you you you_

_My love_

_In my life I dream about you_

_Well if I'd sleep I'd see only you_

_You're everything everything I wanted you_

_I need my loving falling from you_

She ran her hand absently through his hair, her eyes scanning the pages in her lap. She stopped humming instantly before the last line, leaving his deep, resonant voice to fill the room. She stared at him softly as he did so, the words slipping out in barely a whisper, but shooting her down all the same.

_"You're love."_

At the moment, she didn't know whether to kiss him breathless or continue reading. So she settled to be honest with herself. She gripped his hair gently in between her slender fingers and jerked his head back, silencing his menacing, angry lips with the sweet, spicy taste of her own. As he gently pressed her away, mouth gasping as his breath hitched in his throat, he whispered. "I think I love you."

As if struck by lightning, her head jerked up. Those words pierced her heart and she turned her face away, bitten inside by the dark, cold pang of doubt. Was this really him? On the inside, she missed the rebel side of Draco. The side that pissed off teachers and beat kids up; the side that fucked a variety of girls only to have them pining for him. She even missed the way he quarreled with her friends, and the trio. The way he swore when he was angry; the way he smirked at her nastily and flicked his tongue over his top lip last year, the way he saw her in the hall; eyeing her up and down and smirking seductively as he passed. She missed it all; she wanted it back. She'd do anything to get it back. But yet she didn't know who he was this year, didn't know where he went.

"But I don't even know you anymore."

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**Ok. Disclaimer! You know the drill! I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs strictly to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Inc, not me, and I do not wish to distribute it to public. I also do not own those three songs, one of which I..er..do not remember where it came from, but it does NOT belong to me.., another -'Tell Her Tonight'- Franz Ferdinand, the other-'You'-to Moby. I ALSO do not want to distribute those to the public, seeing as I don't own them obviously. Anyway, review! Tell me what you think! **


	3. Chapter Three

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Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

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**Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and false sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…what happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_**

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* * *

She left not long after their kiss. She collected her books and papers up and crammed them into her bag, while both of them were still speechless and thoughtless; immobile.

She scooted out the door silently, Draco running his fingers lazily through his hair, staring at the blazing fire.

She slipped down the hallway, sliding through the shadows with easy grace and light footsteps. But her head was heavy with stupid thoughts.

She sighed. "Why did you change?" she muttered aloud, coming to the Fat Lady.

"Why did who change?" It was Harry. He was standing in the corner near the portrait, arm's crossed, eyes drooping.

"God, how long have you been out here? And why?" she mumbled, ignoring his question, shifting her bag and grabbing his forearm stiffly. He jerked it away semi-harshly and stumbled to the portrait face.

"Long enough. And none of your fucking business," he muttered, and stood there like an idiot, swaying as he tried to remember the password.

She surveyed him slowly. "Harry-Harry, are you drunk?" She touched his arm gently with her fingertips.

"Why the fuck would you care?" He grumbled, slurring. "Did you have fun with Malfoy?"

She stepped back from his angry glare. "We studied. Big deal," she said, tilting her chin up.

"Well you were sure out a long time." _Nice going, dumb ass_.

"How would you know?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"I-just…I just noticed, maybe. I don't know. You were just out for awhile, and with Malfoy nonetheless. But the point is, did you have fun with him, Ginny?" he said, gesturing to her open robes and white wrinkled shirt; the first few buttons were unbuttoned because of the heat.

"It was hot," she muttered, pulling her robes closed. Her eyes narrowed further. "You are not my father, Harry, nor are you my stupid brother. So if you'd please move, I could get on with my life," she growled. Despite his drunken stage, he shifted slowly, sidestepping. She stalked right past him, red curls twisted up in a half-bun, hips swaying as she walked. She muttered the password evenly, a slight snarl in her voice. The portrait closed behind her with a light _snap_, and he was left in the darkness. He leaned against the wall, gently, sinking to the floor.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Harry? She's Ginny…she's like your little sister…" he muttered to himself.

* * *

Draco sat still. He could still taste her lips on his, the burning sensation that filled him when she touched him. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, running ever so slowly. He could still feel her breath in his ear, could still feel the pain in his heart; could still hear her voice as she said, "But I don't even know you anymore."

She was right, and he didn't think he could deny it. He had changed; he didn't even know who he was anymore.

He'd changed over the summer. Changed to get rid of that nasty person he was, to put light on the person inside. And he'd only made his target dislike him more.

He didn't know what to do. Should he just change, and have no one notice? Was that possible? He sighed in a grumpy fashion and pulled at his hair, sucking in a deep breath. He could still smell her. It was like she was still there, sitting above him, humming gently and running her cool fingers through his hair.

"Should I change for you?" he murmured into the silence, as if she were still there. "It feels so different when I'm around you. What's gotten into me?"

He needed to get himself back. "How?" he muttered aloud, getting up and shifting his books and things from the floor to his desk in a neat stack.

He settled on his four-poster bed, pulling up the silky green duvet around his shoulders. "How can I change for you?" he murmured, eyes drooping steadily. His name fell off her lips as he slowly drifted away in a bubble of soft pillows and silky red hair.

* * *

Ginny woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in her stomach, like rocks were settled heavily in her abdomen. Her stomach growled rather loudly, and as she pushed back the curtains a much too bright; much too blinding ray of sunlight greeted her.

"Good dear Lord," she muttered to herself, and rolled back on her bed, closing the curtains with a flick of her wrists. "Need more sleep…" she grumbled, eyes closing as she settled back into the pillows.

A rather loud knock on the door barely startled her. "Ginny, wake up." It was Hermione's voice. She knocked once more on the door, before turning the knob.

"Ginny, wake up," she repeated softly, entering the room. "Gin…" she murmured gently, approaching the bed. Ginny just squirmed in her sleep a bit, a mewling sound escaping her parted lips. Hermione slipped on a cruel smile as she planted her hand on Ginny's stomach quickly, yelling, "WAKE UP!" She laughed delightedly as the poor red head jumped nearly 3 feet in the air, yelling out, "I'm awake!" she shook her hair out grumpily and threw her legs over the side, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"My God Hermione, you scared the shit out of me," she muttered, standing and stretching. Hermione just laughed and turned to leave the room.

"Well, it's the only working way to get you up and about," she replied, her voice faint as she exited the room.

She sighed. Everyone was being distant; but maybe it was her fault. She'd chewed out the trio and placed herself close to the border, incase it came time to jump and run. Her friends didn't talk to her…well, most of them anyway. The others only wanted to know what it was like.

Slytherin girls whispered as she passed that morning. Her robes were folded over her right arm, her bag slung from her shoulder; her white oxford shirt was rolled up to her elbows and her red and gold tie was undone and hanging around her collar. She threw open the doors easily, red hair falling down her shoulders as she stalked angrily to the Gryffindor Table. The hall fell quiet and eyes bore into her as she slammed her pack onto the bench and plopped down angrily beside it, impatiently picking bits of white confetti out of her hair and off her clothes.

"Damn Peeves…Goddamnit I'm going to give him a big piece of my mind right in the Goddamn pie hole…" she muttered crossly, abandoning the confetti and reaching for a slice of bacon in an irritated manner.

She munched heatedly while the others simply stared, Hermione breaking the silence and swishing her wand offhandedly at Ginny's cardigan, the petite redhead barely noticing that the bits of white paper were gone. She nodded a quiet thanks to her and continued to eat, feeling eyes on her forehead. She looked up, practically ignoring the conversation that drifted on around her; something about Hagrid. She felt as if the rest of the room went blurry, and there they were.

Those eyes. Those stormy eyes that captured her soul in their jaws; those deceiving colors that feigned peace but lead to adventure. Those silver-blue orbs that reminded her of the Eye of the Storm; the silence of evil. Draco Malfoy's eyes.

She eyed him warily but suspiciously, using all her will to keep her mouth closed. He smirked nastily, running the tip of his tongue over his top lip. She swallowed noisily, and the notorious pink tint once again crawled up her neck. She stared at him half heatedly, half soft; her eyes drifting from his icy eyes to the slender hand that was idly brushing hair out of his eyes. She remembered the soft feeling off his platinum blonde hair; like tendrils of silk slipping through her fingers. She smiled distractedly and he winked, still smirking. Somehow she found it the right time to look away.

* * *

He'd cornered her easily. Just like he used to; just like the good days. He'd thought about it over and over the night before, tossing and turning into his pillows until he came to a conclusion. She really did miss the person he was before. So to make the whole world round again, he made the easy slip from strangely nice to notoriously nasty. And he had a certain feel that that she liked this sudden change.

She'd left the Hall not long after, readjusting her headband; bag tucked neatly into her hip as both hips and hair swung from left to right gently. He let the moments tick away. _One. Two. Three. Four. Four and a half. Four and a-wait, wasn't that just four an a half a second ago? Damnit…stupid fucking watch._ He deserted the watch with a huffy sigh and slid off the bench, nodding slyly to fellow Slytherins who gave him a slight bob of a head in return.

He pushed open the door quick enough to see a flash of bright red hair disappear out the main doors. He quickened his pace slightly, back stiff and smirk planted permanently to his serene insipid lips. He pushed open the door softly, hardly making any noise. With the sharpest movements he was behind her, grasping her swaying hips in his cold hands. He was against her in a second, breathing into the warmth of her neck. Her spicy perfume wafted into his nostrils, and he closed his eyes.

"God, you scared the hell out of me," she murmured, stock still in the September warmth. He nuzzled her neck, gently. He laughed a chortle that vibrated her stomach slightly, screwing up her senses. She laughed a bit too.

"What's so funny, Weasel? Can't take a scare?" he smirked, backing away from her neck. She rolled her eyes and readjusted her shoulder strap, hips swaying again as she started to walk again.

For a moment he was hypnotized; in a trance cast by those flashy auburn curls and her luscious hips that swung from side to side…side to side…side to side…He licked his lips unconsciously and blinked. She stopped and turned, tilting her head to the side.

"What's the matter Malfoy? Weasley got your tongue?" (A/N: I know…I used that line before in CC but I couldn't help it…)He smirked evily once again and lowered his head, glaring at her so strangely she winced at seeing the whites of his eyes and turned her head.

She was completely caught off guard again as his hot fingers grasped her hips and swung her sideways slightly. Her mouth opened and she let out a little squeak, smiling. She straightened and sighed as his lips fell to her neck, his warm steady breathing soaking her senses. She felt a vibration against her pulse point. As she listened for a moment, she realized he was humming.

_In this time, are we loving?_

_Or do we sit here wondering?_

_Why this world isn't turning around_

_It's now or never_

_We have no use_

_For the truth_

_Now's the time for us to lose_

_Who we are and how we've tried_

_Taking every step in stride_

_It's now or never to decide_

Her eyes snapped open. She recognized the song. "Draco, stop," she pleaded. He ignored her sensibly and continued humming, tongue flicking out to press pleasurably on her pulse point. His fingers moved gently but firmly along her hips, massaging her stressed skin in intense…deep…circles… 

_In this time are we loving?_

_Or do we sit here wondering?_

_Why this world isn't turning around _

_It's now or never_

_In this way are we learning_

_Or do we sit here yearning_

_For this world to stop turning around_

_It's now or never_

_Where's the truth _

_For us to use_

_Cause all we seem to do is lose_

_Who we are and how we've tried_

_Are we all the same inside?_

_It's now or never to decide_

"Draco," she almost inaudibly growled, "please, stop." He ignored her again, lightly nipping her neck. He grinned as he heard her sharp intake of breath, and melt into his frame.

_In this time are we loving?_

_Or do we sit here wondering?_

_Why this world isn't turning around_

_It's now or never_

_And this way are we learning_

_Or do we stand here yearning_

_For this world to stop turning around_

_It's now or never_

_In this time are we loving?_

_Or do we sit here wondering?_

_Why this world isn't turning around_

_It's now or never_

_In this time, are we loving?_

_Or do we sit here wondering?_

_Why this world isn't turning around _

_It's now or never_

_And this way are we learning_

_Or do we stand here yearning_

_For this world to stop turning around_

_Its now or never_

"Draco," she barely murmured. Her knees were buckling, fast. Her hand reflexed up gently as he nipped her neck again, and her fingers brushed through the hair above his eyes. He closed his eyes and drew a tiny bit of skin into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue. Her heart pounded below in his ears, raising gently with every touch he made. He sang the last part aloud, gently, murmuring it into her neck. 

"_In this time are we loving? __Wondering? __Isn't turning around __It's now or never…_" 

She spun around quickly, barely giving him time to breathe before his lips were covered. "God Draco, I said stop," she muttered between their tangled lips and tongues, feverishly working away anything that was left of her resistance. He grinned and backed her gently up to the courtyard wall, wet stones touching her heated body. She groaned, barely, and easily slid her hands up the front of his black button-up shirt, her delicate fingers pressing against his abs and tracing the fine lines between his muscles. 

"Good Lord," he muttered into her neck, teeth sliding over the warm flesh of her neck and onto her jaw line. His tongue traced the boundaries of her lips before slipping into her mouth; convincing her _come, come out and play…_She just laughed and attacked his mouth with just as much fervor before Draco cried out in pain and spun around. "What the fuck…" he started, and snarled viciously. Ginny pulled her robes together around her waist, as they'd come undone, and hid behind him. Ron glared disgustedly first at Draco, and then spun his angry gaze to his baby sister. 

"15 points from Gryffindor, 15 points from Slytherin-both for public displays of affection," he muttered. Ginny clutched the back of Draco's robes in her hands, as she couldn't reach his fingers and touched her forehead to his back. Draco stared Ron away from the scene, snarl permanently fixed on his face. 

"Bloody fucking Weasel. Who does he think he is, the Headmaster? Dear God," he muttered under his breath, spinning around and fixing his robes. Ginny cowered against the wall, a small innocent thing amidst the angry, silent battles of her brother. He frowned. 

"Don't be like that, Ginny. He's just a stupid git. He doesn't know what he's doing," he murmured, enveloping her into his lean arms. She sank into his embrace, sighing into his robes. 

"He hates this. What I'm doing…but he needs to know I'm not a little girl anymore. Am I? Am I still a little girl?" she sighed, looking up into those eyes again. 

He sighed. "I don't know, Ginny. I just don't think I know you all that well yet," he said, smiling and cocking his head to the side. She huffed out another sigh as she straightened her shirt and skirt, fixing her tie, which had come loose under his lips. 

"Oh God, I looked like I've just been fucked," she laughed, smoothing her skirt again. He smirked nastily again and there was a twinkle in his eye. "If your brother hadn't come along, you might've been," he said, winking. She rolled her eyes, but the pink tint came again, turning her neck a bright red. He chucked her under the chin gently, leaning down to catch her lips. 

"Don't worry, Weasel. I would've found a closet or something," he laughed. She rolled her eyes again and looked at him quite strange, as if he had a bug on his forehead. 

"You're a sick man, Draco Malfoy. A sick, sick man," she laughed. He caught her hips as he walked behind her. 

"Oh, you know you like it, Ginevra. You know it turns you on," he muttered, and she yelped as his finger prodded her side. 

"Whatever, Malfoy. Now take me to my classes, now that you've made me late," she muttered, shoving him in the shoulder. 

"Yes, Weasley, I think I'll do that," he murmured back. 

McGonagall stood at the end of the hallway, surveying the two. Their civil language, and slight tint in the neck told her that something was going on… 

* * *

**Righto. 'Nother finished chap. The Song in this chapter is called 'Now or Never', and If I believe I'm right I think it's Three Days Grace? Either that or Dashboard Confessionals. Otherwise, I must apologize…the last song in the last chapter I'd forgotten it's name, it's called Standard Lines and belongs to Dashboard Confessionals. Now, Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or names; J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Inc., own them all. I also do not own the song in this chapter (I've already concluded who it belongs to) and do not wish to sell or collect any sort of prophet off of it. Thanks, and REVIEW! __**


	4. Chapter Four

**Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

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**Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_**

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_Smile_, she thought. _Smile and look at the wall. Let him lead. Don't look to them…don't look to them…don't look to them…_

His hand squeezed her left hip. She gave a tiny squeak, clearing her throat gently. He rolled his eyes, and his grip loosened just a tad.

_One step._

_Two steps._

_Three steps._

His eyes were cast down to her for a moment. Her silky red hair was tied back in two French braids to her neck, her uniform ironed and her robes neatly tucked into her bag which wrapped around her neck and left arm, and was clutched tightly in her hands. Her delicate, tiny hands…He wondered to God how she couldn't know she was beautiful. He cast his gaze back up to the aghast crowd of the Great Hall, watching her head drop slightly and the crowd's glares penetrate her body. She sucked in a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

_Smile._

She tilted her chin up gently. Her thin, round face was simply glowing, but her eyes had a certain uneasy look to them. They sparkled with a delicious happiness about them, but behind them, it wasn't the same…

_Something _

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_Changing_

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_The secret is building_

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_Almost _

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_Over _

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_And somehow seems a beginning_

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_Losing _

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_Focus_

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_It must be boring_

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_Looking forward never turns out the wrong way_

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_(Speaking with no one)___

She swallowed noisily. Was she ready for this image? Was she completely willing to give up her total innocence just to show some asshole of a brother she could breathe on her own?

Her conscience was yelling, screaming, _NO NO NO NO NO!_

But she had to ignore it. She needed to break out of this shell…

Her heart quickened with every step they took together. His icy hot hands clung to her hip and her side was pressed against his own. It felt so unreal…so unimaginable…was she really doing this?

She cleared her throat. A block seemed to be growing there, collecting in her air passage. She gave a slight wheeze and swallowed noisily again. Draco cast an irritated glance at her, stilling her with his eyes.

She blushed a little bit, and was thoroughly relieved when his hand left her side. With a half smile and an awkward gaze, he let go. But instead of slowly walking to the table, she turned and meandered out the doors into the hallway.

* * *

He was curious where she was going. But instead of invading her much needed privacy, he found himself near his own table, the wafting smell of breakfast invading his nostrils. He attacked the food with a gracious fervor, completely overlooking the fact that Harry Potter had just stealthily slipped off the bench and out the door, following the petite redhead with a look of hunger on his face.

* * *

The cold air was refreshing on her hot face. _So many eyes…staring…staring at me…_

She sighed. But her breath was sucked back into her mouth as she felt arms on her hips, a body against her back. The very faint smell off cologne beneath a strong scent of soap.

"Draco?" she murmured, but she was sure it wasn't him. A lump was in her throat, and her eyes grew wide as she felt lips and teeth and tongue working hungrily at her throat.

"D-Draco? Hello?" she practically shrieked, squirming wildly in the man's grasp. He gave a loud grunt in response and went back to work again, feeling herself being dragged away.

"Draco, this isn't funny anymore! Draco?! Hello? Who the hell-" she said, and was about to scream but a hand was placed firmly over her mouth, and she couldn't open it. Reality dawned on her quickly. She struggled madly, but his hands were on her, covering her mouth and grabbing her sensitive places as her eyes connected with the darkness, and a door was closed. _Click_. She was locked inside, with an unknown person. She was being raped.

* * *

Draco looked around again. It'd been nearly 10 minutes, and she hadn't returned. Wasn't she hungry? He was curious as to where she was, and got up off the bench to search for her.

* * *

His hands fell off her mouth. "DRACO!" she screamed into the stale closet air. She struggled wildly against his invading hands, burning her skin. She shrieked again, and tears fell out of her squeezed-shut eyes.

"DRACO!" she cried again. His hand covered her mouth as he began to rip at her clothes, piece by piece. He tore her shirt down, buttons flying, and ripped at her skirt. She shrieked once more, and bit down on his hand. A line of swears emerged, but she screamed again. "DRACO!"

* * *

He heard his name in the courtyard. He followed at a fast pace, nearly running now. A million thoughts raced through his head, each one ignored or postponed as he ran through the courtyard, hearing her voice again. A shriek emerged from down a hallway. Sliding across the marble, he raced down the corridor, hearing her cries. "DRACO!" she screamed. Her voice was garbled, strained, and close. As he rounded a corner, he heard her shriek. A closet door kept him from her. He pounded wildly on the wood, grabbing the knob again and again. At a loss, he pulled out his wand, hearing the fast movements, and labored breathing.

"_Alohomora!"_ He cried, and pulled open the door.

* * *

The person's hands slipped under her knickers, probing her gentle places. She shrieked again, crying and sobbing furiously as she heard his pants unzip. A million things ran through her head as she pleaded and sobbed.

"Please, please, stop! Please! Don't! God, STOP! DRACO!" she screamed again.

He pressed up against her, situating himself at her entrance. Just then, a blinding ray of light landed on her. She screamed out to the figure. "Help me! Help me, please!"

* * *

Draco's mouth fell open more in awe than anger. But as realization dawned on him, he grabbed the ebony headed boy by the back of his shirt strongly and ripped him off of the redhead.

* * *

Blinding light fell harshly on Harry's eyes as a strong hand threw him onto the floor. He quickly reached down and zipped himself back in his pants, ready to beat the shit out of whoever it was that had disturbed him. He was slightly surprised that towering over him was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Ginny shrieked in horror over all the surprise. Sprawling on the floor at her feet, was her so-called near-family member, Harry Potter.

* * *

He couldn't think. He didn't want to, at all. The only thoughts that raced through his mind were the ones that were purely based on beating the shit out of Scarhead for laying his slimy fingers on Ginny.

He fell to his knees, straddling the boy's waist. His fists flew uncontrollably, the only noise was Ginny's sobs from behind him and the sickening smacks and crunches as Draco's bloody knuckles pounded into Harry's face, and stomach.

When he finally rolled away, sweat beaded on his forehead. His eyes were narrowed and his breathing was heavy and forced. His knuckles were bloody, and Harry lay barely conscious at his knees, tossing and writhing in pain, cupping his nasty face. Hermione and Ron appeared at the end of the corridor moments later, after Draco stood.

"Good God, Ginny, I'm so sorry," he cried, pulling off his outer robe and pulling it around her shoulders. She was still shaking and sobbing, sniffling into his shoulder as he pulled her into a hug. Her clothes lay in ripped pieces on the floor of the closet where he'd dragged her, abandoned. He hugged her tightly to him, her head in his shoulder. After a moment of somewhat composed sniffling, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his neck, and broke down. Ron was red faced at the end of the hallway, Hermione's own face pale and stricken.

"Harry!" Ron cried, racing down the hallway. Draco turned around and shot a pointed glare at him.

"That's all you have enough sympathy for these days, isn't it. Potter, and whether he's ok. You don't give a bloody damn that your poor own darling _sister_ has just been fucking _raped_ by the fuckhead, hmm?!" Draco all but screamed, drawing himself to his full height. Ron turned to his so-called best friend, who was still writhing.

"H-Harry? I-Is this true? You? R-R-Raped Ginny?" he said, a slight snarl in the word _rape_. Harry sat up, barely, cupping his blood-gushing nose.

"It's not what you think Ron, really. Malfoy's overreacting. Ginny followed me there, she told me to," he lied. Ginny's face became contorted in anger. She marched into the closet, collecting the ripped abandonments that had been her clothes.

"I _did_? Would I do _this_ to my own clothing, Harry? _Would I_? Would _I_ tell _you_ to shove off about two days before, and then come _crawling_ to you, asking you to _fuck_ me? _Would I?" _She shrieked, tears falling down her cheeks. Ron's distracted gaze shifted from the bloody mess on the ground, to his stricken girlfriend, to his invaded baby sister, to her new love. The whole mess was just about ridiculous. His eyes gently rested on Ginny's ripped shirt and skirt, and they fell down nastily on Harry.

"Potter, don't you ever, _ever_ lay _one fucking finger_ on _my_ baby sister _ever the fuck again_." He growled, emphasizing every statement with a jab in the face with his finger. "You got that? Or it's straight to Azkaban with you," he snarled. He closed his eyes and swung his foot back, kicking him firmly in the side, wincing. Hermione gasped. Slowly, the two of them dragged Harry and his bloody mess down the hall. But halfway there, Ron turned around, and walked toward Draco, who was comforting a sobbing Ginny.

He clapped his hand gently on his shoulder, closed his eyes, and nodded his head. No words were spoken as they exchanged a nod, and Ron disappeared down the hallway again.

* * *

About 10 minutes passed. The redhead situated herself in Draco's arms, hands on his chest and forehead at his collar bone. She stood still for a second, barely breathing. Then, with a crooked sob, her emotions exploded inside her, and she cried and hiccupped into his neck. His heart ached, slowly, and his brain screamed, '_LOOK WHAT YOU LET HIM DO!'_ He felt horrible.

Ginny's body grew limp in his arms, her face planted gently in the crook of his neck. As he heard her steady, even breathing, he sighed. Reaching down, gently, he scooped her legs up into his arms, and she cuddled to his chest. Slipping past inquiring teachers and shifty-eyed students, Draco brought Ginny slowly down to his room, removing her tattered bits of clothing and dressing her in an overly-large t-shirt that covered her petite body. He placed her gingerly under the covers, and lay gently beside her, stroking the hair out of her face.

_Restless tonight_

__

_Cause I wasted the light_

__

_Between both these times_

_I drew a really thin line_

_It's nothing I planned_

_And not that I can_

_But you should be mine_

_Across that line_

_If I traded it all_

_If I gave it all away for one thing_

_Just for one thing_

_If I sorted it out_

_If I knew all about this one thing_

_Wouldn't that be something_

__

_I promise I might_

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_Not walk on by_

__

_Maybe next time_

_But not this time_

_Even though I know_

_I don't want to know_

_Yeah I guess I know_

_I just hate how it sounds_

_If I traded it all_

_If I gave it all away for one thing_

_Just for one thing_

_If I sorted it out_

___If I knew all about this one thing_

_Wouldn't that be something_

__

_Even though I know_

_I don't want to know_

_Y__eah I guess I know_

_I just hate how it sounds _

__

_If I traded it all_

_If I gave it all away for one thing_

_Just for one thing_

_If I sorted it out_

_If I knew all about this one thing_

_Wouldn't that be something ___

It was going to be a long day, a long day full of missed classes and tears.

* * *

**A/N: Please review, and tell me what you think. Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or places, or anything…They all belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I also do not own the song lyrics…both of them belong to Finger Eleven; one called Conversations and one called One Thing. I do not wish to distribute these things and make a profit off of them. **

**Anyway, so ends said chapter. Look for my new fic, called 'Silver on Red'. It's D/G too...lol! **


	5. Chapter Five

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

_

* * *

(I've gotten reviews about it and I just keep screaming at myself for saying it all those times, but I'm telling you now just to ease your consciences, Ginny didn't get raped by Harry. She almost did, but didn't. She just got very…err…invaded. I'm stupid…sorry… again, I'm stupid…lol Hope you find it as good news)

* * *

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The light was in her eyes. She rolled over, eyes pained and bloodshot from her tears and all the times she'd woken up and looked right into the lights.

She'd been in Draco's room for two days now, almost constantly sleeping. He'd come and check on her, give her something in a little vial and lay beside her, touching her face and pressing chaste kisses to her forehead or cheeks or something; watching her drift away back to sleep.

This time it was probably mid-afternoon, and the room was fairly quiet. The curtains were half drawn around his bed, concealing her from the world. The long t-shirt was wrapped around her body, twisted up above her belly button leaving her wrapped in the silk duvet in the shirt and her underwear. She'd been restlessly sleeping, sheets swathed around her legs and tangled around her hips. She sat up abruptly, medicine having warn off and leaving her particularly energized and hungry. She reached out gingerly, fingertips just barely brushing the velvet curtains. There was no sign of him, not anywhere in the room, and she felt the curiosity building up in her abdomen as she slipped out of the mess and her feet touched the floor.

The water was running in the bathroom, but the door was open.

Her bare feet padded across the carpet floor, toes sinking into the plushy softness as she walked toward the door. The lights were dimmed, slightly, and a cool rush of air flooded from the bathroom. The touched the door with her hand, pressing her palm against it as she opened it.

She didn't say anything. She only stood there, a slight smile lingering on her lips, but her sleep-featured face was drawn in awe. The light reflected off the shimmering waters, the enchanted pool clear with a stony bottom. A figure drifted across the clear waters, creating slow ripples that touched the stone edges and bounced back to the center. A small patch of black was distorted from being beneath the waters, but as it was attached to the pale figure she figured it was his trunks. She stepped into the bathroom, lowering herself lazily to the edge of the pool, dipping her feet into the cold waters. She watched him swim quick laps around the pool, entranced by the way his muscles rippled beneath his skin with every stroke of his arm. She just lingered there, swishing her feet silently into the water, waiting for either sleep or for him to look up, and notice she was sitting there.

The water swished in her ears as she closed her eyes, flexing her toes in the coolness. The swish…swish…swish of water, and then the sudden ceasing as he stopped. She tilted her head to the side so it rested on her shoulder, eyes still closed, feeling the soft waves brush against her legs. And then the coldness of slim fingers as they touched her waist from behind, lifting her up. Her eyes snapped open and she whipped around, balancing on the edge and then throwing herself forward as she tried not to fall in. A deep, hollow laugh as hands left her sides and wrapped around her, the icy cool warmth of his wet skin as it touched her own. She shivered just slightly, and closed her eyes again; sighing and resting her forehead on his collarbone.

"Silly, silly Gin. How long have you been awake, hmm?" he asked, the deep resonance of his voice reverberated in her ears.

"Not that long," she replied in her small voice, piping up and barely echoing in the tiled room. His hand ran through her hair, which she'd undone sometime between sleep fits.

"Oh." was his return. They sat in silence like that for awhile, just his hand running through her hair and their steady breathing; the slow drip of water as it ran down his body and pooled around their bare feet. She sniffled, just so, and his body was stiff until he knew it was just a sniffle, and he relaxed.

"You know, Ginny, I just want to tell you I'm…"

"I know, Draco. It's ok now, I think. Nothing got damaged, I still have my precious virginity, and now we know that Harry Potter is a scumbag. You don't have to be sorry, it was my fault. I shouldn't have just wandered away from you."

He was silent for a moment, before he sighed. "Maybe you're right. But I still feel so bad, Ginny. You don't know how scared I was that you were being hurt. I was so mad, and so scared…" he trailed off, and she smiled just slightly and pulled back, out of his dripping grasp.

"Well, I'm still here and I'm unharmed. Although, I'm a little paranoid and disturbed right now, I'm still alive and in one piece. Just be glad it didn't turn out like some things do," she said. He smiled.

"Ok, then. We'll do it your way." But in his mind the event passed by, and there was Potter's sickening grin as he was being dragged down the hallway. Shivers split up his own spine, and he opened his eyes as soon as he'd realized he'd closed them.

Her stomach rumbled loudly from inside her. He laughed slightly, and poked her in the back. She squeaked and poked him in the ribs, smiling.

"Hungry there, Gin?"

"Is it really that obvious?" she joked. He laughed, and pulled away.

"Food sounds good right about now," he smiled. She smiled back, but her face collected in curiosity.

"What time is it?" she asked, her voice bouncing off the walls. He left the bathroom, grabbing a towel on the way and said, "12:26. Lunch is being eaten in the Great Hall, right about now."

Her mind flashed from scene to scene and she whipped around quickly, to steal a glance at the calendar next to the clock on the wall.

"Fuck! You were just going to let me stay here forever, weren't you?!" she accused. Classes had been going on without her, homework probably stacked at her dorm room door.

"If it's a way to keep you safe, then yes! God, how many times have we been through this in between your naps?! There are guys and men and people who have no brains whatsoever out there staring you down, just waiting to steal away what they want. Just waiting to _hurt _you. And I feel that if I keep you here…If I keep you locked away in my room, maybe you'd stick around for just a bit longer. Just long enough to hide the pain inside my head and my chest that always comes around when you're not." He choked on the last sentence, and her eyes widened as she thought he was going to cry. She took a step back, and her voice was very quiet.

"Draco, we've been through this too. Time and time again, we have. We can't be what you want us to be right now. It's not _safe,_ and it's not right to them. We can't go breaking all the rules we set down, just because we think its right. God, it's so _wrong_, and you can't even see it. You can't see all those filthy looks they throw at me when I go into the Common Room. You can't hear their silent sniggers and the pointed comments that stab me in the back when it's turned. You just _can't._" She huffed out a sigh and grabbed one of the robes he'd brought to her one morning off the chair in the corner and pulled it on over his shirt, folding it over around her front and slipping on her shoes.

"Where are you going?!" he called out as she pulled her hair back in a pony tail and pulled open the door, tears threatening to fall.

"I'm leaving, obviously. Life has to go on, Draco," she said wistfully, and disappeared out the door. He just stood there, towel hanging from his finger tips, and stepped forward slowly to close it. Turning and cradling his head in his hands he leaned against it, mixed emotions inside himself releasing in a flood into his hands.

* * *

"Where have you been these past days?" It was Hermione. Stupid fucking… 

"I've been somewhere, obviously. As if you cared," she snorted. Hermione got up from the couch and followed her up the steps to the girls' section.

"Well of course I care! Especially after-" she sucked back her breath as Ginny spun around and towered over her, hate but fear and sadness lingering in the heated stare she pointed at her.

"Shut up," Ginny snarled quietly. Her fists unclenched at her sides, and her body went from rigid to relaxed. She walked up the steps silently, coming to her dorm room door, with Hermione still following.

"Ginny, please tell me where you were. Please? We've been worried s-sick," she muttered. Ginny rolled her eyes, turning to her with her hand on the knob.

"Yeah, and I fucked Draco. (**A/N: **Sarcasm…she didn't really lol) Whatever, Hermione. I don't need this bullshit right now," she said and turned the knob, entering her room and slamming it with the flick of her wrist, startling Hermione so much she had to take a step back at the loud noise and large burst of air.

"But we try to," she whispered to the door.

* * *

Breakfast hurt, to be put plainly. Her limbs ached from lack of use for the last two to three days, and she still had marks on her arms from his fingernails when…Oh Damn. Better not go into that. 

They wouldn't look at her, especially and thankfully Potter. She only glared at them when their heads were down, eating their breakfast in an eerie silence that Ginny decided to treasure and make best. She ate quietly also, but with her back rigid and ears open. Everything disturbed her now…even the slightest noises sent shivers up her spine…

Eyes were boring into her. Of course, the whole school knew. Madame Pomfrey also knew, but after Draco's heated glance she didn't mention a name for the sake of Potter's reputation. But as far as anyone else knew, she'd been partially raped, or _invaded_, as Pomfrey put it. They all knew it, and she hated them for that.

A different pair of eyes burned into her head, poking her thoughts. She glanced up, but she didn't need to. Mercury eyes peered back at her, staring her back into her mind and the barely practical thoughts that were forming inside. He gave her a tiny small, or something that resembled a smile, and ducked his head, staring back into his breakfast plate. She gave a half smile in his direction before shutting her eyes. _I hate this! _She screamed in her head, running her fingers agitatedly through a soft mass of red curls and stood up, snatching her book bag with her. The Hall fell silent, and eyes were brought to her standing figure. Whispers pooled at her feet and formed a cloud of annoyance around her head, everyone talking about things they didn't know…She had had enough.

"Shut _up!_" she screeched, narrowing her eyes and clenching her fists. Tears slipped out the corners of her eyes, cold, hating tears. "All of you! Just shut _up!_" She spun quickly on her heel and ran out the doors, head cradled in her hands.

He shot up from the bench unconsciously to follow her; hearing her stifled cries and sobs echoing from every direction he just stood in the middle of the courtyard. A loud smack like someone dropping a book flat on a floor and a loud, "God, woman, watch where the fuck you're going!" from the east corridor gave him a lead, and he shot off in that direction.

Moments later he caught her running across the bridge that connected two buildings, and running up behind her, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face him. She toddled on the tips of her toes, caught off guard with no balance by his hands. He ducked his head to look into her eyes, which had tears streaming steadily from them. He tried to hug her, tried to make her smile, but she only gave a weak cry and beat her hands softly against his chest, shoving him away.

"_Draco," _she sobbed, "we can't do this. We can't be together. I just realized - just realized that it's _wrong._ You're a Slytherin, and I'm a Gryffindor. It's impossible, it's horrible. No matter what you've done to yourself - changed, or that nonsense or whatever - it doesn't help the situation. We can't be together. It just c-can't happen," she spluttered, stumbling backwards. She spun and ran away, leaving him confused and yelling after her.

"But why? That doesn't matter, because I need you! Ginny! God, Ginny, I think I'm in love with you!"

A sharp gasp from behind him sent him spinning.

The Mudblood's cool brown gaze bore into him, eyes sparkling.

"Y-you do?" He swallowed. Him and his big fat mouth.

"Yes, Granger. I love her."

With that he spun and walked sulkily in her direction, leaving Hermione standing behind him in awe. Automatically she spun and ran away, back in the direction of the Great Hall.

Wow.

I would swallow my pride

I would choke on the rinds

But the lack thereof

Would leave me empty inside

Swallow my doubt

Turn it inside out

Find nothing but

Faith in nothing

Wanna put my tender

Heart in a blender

Watch it spin around

To a beautiful oblivion

Rendezvous and I'm through with you

-

I burn burn like a wicker cabinet

Chalk white and oh so frail

I see our time has gotten stale

-

The tick tock of the clock is painful

All sane and logical

I want to tear it off the wall

-

I hear words in clips and phrases

I think sick like ginger ale

My stomach turns and I exhale

"I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside. Swallow my doubt, turn it inside out, find nothing but faith in nothing. Wanna put my tender, heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion. Rendezvous and I'm t-through with you," he sang softly, sitting outside the classroom she'd disappeared into. Despite his poundings on the door and shouts that he loved her and _yes, _it was possible they could be together; she only sniffled harder and screamed for him to go away. As he watched the shadows fade on the wall on the third day of missed classes, he wondered how the word 'love' could get two people into so much trouble.

At the end of the day, he was walking absently down the hall when he stopped at Gryffindor Tower. There she was, standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at him with those doe-like brown eyes. He reached out a hand and touched her cheek, her eyes watching his hand as it jerked back on its own accord; the person's skin whom it was touching long gone now. As he touched his hand to his own face, the strange shock in his fingertips faded and begun to, much like his heart, sting like fire.

* * *

Alright. Harry Potter and all its characters like Ginny, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Madame Pomfrey and everyone else much like its places (Hogwarts) and everywhere else do not belong to me; they belong to the wonderful author J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros Inc., much as the song in this chapter does not belong to me, it is called 'Inside Out' and belongs to Eve 6. I do not wish to distribute these things or make a profit off of them, although I wish I had some money right about now. 

Anyway, review and tell me how you think this chapter went! Sorry about the late update, I had things to take care of. LoL


	6. Chapter Six

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

* * *

She awoke to the stifling sounds of Sunday in her ears; the wind whooshing and getting caught in the sanctuaries of her hearing. But his name still lay on her lips, the words he said still echoing in her mind. _Ginny, I think I love you. _What silliness, she smiled weakly to herself. What silly truth. She groaned and covered her ears, slender fingers pushed together to stop that airy sound. She grinned sadly and pushed herself beneath the covers, digging for a perfect spot. Pretending to sleep. Pretending to sleep at practically 5 in the afternoon. She felt as if she'd been drugged.

A knock at the door. Hermione's voice followed it, echoing rather clumsily about the room.

"Ginny…"

She groaned inaudibly and pushed herself further beneath the covers, nuzzling her face against her knees. She closed her eyes tight, sucking in a deep breath. _Pretend._

"Ginny, I know you're in here," Hermione said in a singsong voice, opening the door and entering herself.

"Wake up, sleepy head!" she chorused, approaching the bed. Touching Ginny's protruding hip, she felt the steady rise and fall Ginny was working so hard to keep natural. Pretending to sleep was such hard work. She poked, and Ginny went rigid for a moment, her breathing quickening. But she slowed it, and was thoroughly relieved when Hermione shrugged and stepped back, exiting the room just as loudly as she'd come. Ginny stayed burrowed beneath the covers, still holding her ears against her skull. She wanted to cry; she really did. But she couldn't because she knew that what he said was true. And she loved him. She really did, if it was possible in just the few days she'd come to know him. She was in love with Draco Malfoy. What silly truth.

It was nearly 11 when she awoke again. Rain was falling, slowly yet surely outside, and a slow, steady pecking was at her window. A hawk sat perched on the window railing outside, letter tied around its neck like a bowtie. She uncurled herself and shoved the covers away, throwing her legs over the edge. Approaching the window she opened it, stepping back to let the hawk in. She left it open, and watched as the hawk descended to the floor and hobbled over to the fire, warming and drying its matted feathers and snapping the cord where the letter hung by itself. She smiled gently and picked up the envelope, fingering the cold wax seal on the back. _DM. _Damn.

Ginevra

I know I've acted like a fool around you, screaming out things I shouldn't be screaming. But you make me do crazy things, Ginny. And I can never stop it, always eager to make a fool of myself to be in your presence, even for a small amount of time. Please, Ginny. Come out and meet me. Tonight, at 11. In the Astronomy Tower. Please. I really do think I'm in love with you, and you must believe me.

Truly Yours,

Draco Malfoy

She swallowed. Looking out the window, the sun was gone and the moon had begun to rise, drifting above the mountains. She glanced around. She wanted to sing, words to a song from a dream drifting around in her head. She sighed, and began to dress, letting the words float around in her mind.

After school, walking home

Fresh dirt under my fingernails and

I can smell hot asphalt

Cars screech to a halt to let me pass

-

And I cannot remember what life was like

Through photographs

And trying to recreate images life gives us from the past

And sometimes it's a sad song

But I

-

Cannot forget, refuse to regret

So glad I met you, and

Take my breath away,

Make everyday

Worth all of the pain that I've gone through

And mama, I've been crying cause things

Ain't how they used to be

She said the battle's almost won

And we're only seven miles from the sun

-

Moving on, down my street

I see people I won't ever meet

I think of her, take a breath

Feel the beat of the rhythm of my steps

And sometimes it's a sad song

But I

-

Cannot forget, refuse to regret

So glad I met you, and

Take my breath away

Make everyday

Worth all of the pain that I've gone through

And mama, I've been crying cause things

Ain't how they used to be

She said the battle's almost won

And we're only seven miles from the sun….

She laughed and looked out the window, watching the moon shine through the trees. Pulling on a pair of navy flannel pajama pants and a tight navy t shirt, she grabbed a gray tight sweat jacket. Locking the door and beginning to hum again, she slipped down the hallways.

She came to the bottom of the ladder, and looked up. Candlelight was glowing above her, flickering and casting shadows on the stone walls. She sucked in a sigh and crawled up silently, pulling her chin up to rest on her elbows at the top. He sat in the window, staring out and humming to himself.

Rhythm of the conversation

Perfection of her creation

The sex she slipped into my coffee

The way she felt when she first saw me

Hate to love and love to hate her

Like a broken record player

Back and forth and here and gone

And on and on and on and on…

She sighed aloud, by accident, causing him to snap his head around in shock. He physically relaxed when he saw her blazing red hair, letting out a softer sigh of relief. She crawled up, skillfully skipping the last step and jumping up. He watched her in silence, dark circles around his eyes. No sleep. No food. It was almost hell for him.

"Ginny," he whispered. It came out in a murmur, barely there as he came forward. She was still; nonmoving as she watched his cloak billow behind him. He stood before her, looking down at her with eyes full of her fragile reflection. She looked away, afraid of what he might see. Her chin turned. Delicate fingers held her face there, forcing her eyes to look up at him. He winced, and touched the corners of her eyes with his thumbs, cupping her face.

"Ginny, I can't be friends with you anymore," he said. She stood there, her face drawn in sadness, and then in confusion. He half smiled, sadly.

"I can't be near you and not think bad things about you. I can't keep following you and hugging you and not be able to breathe. What have you done to me?" he murmured, stepping closer. She didn't say anything. He brushed his thumb along the right side of her face, sighing.

"You've got me going crazy. I want to touch you, Ginny. Make you feel wanted. Oh, I just want to sweep you away and wrap you up in the spell you've put on me."

He was quiet, and she couldn't look away. His eyes were clouded with a built up lust; and his hands were shaking. She swallowed hard, and blinked.

"I - I don't know. Oh, Draco. I do want you. But its wrong, even though it's right. But I can't help myself sometimes. I get lost in you, and then I hit the barrier and I know its not the way it should be, so I run…"

He nodded. But his lazy eyes were grinning sadly, as his face fell and came close to hers. Her breath pooled around his lips and he sucked it in, cherishing the sweet cherry taste. Letting his hands brush down her arms and fall to her hips, they curved around her back, pulling her forward. They stood, staring each other down, when she closed her eyes and stood on tiptoe, lips parted in anticipation. No other invitation was needed.

She felt herself being lowered to the floor before she was actually there. She couldn't find her hands; they were either sifting through his platinum blonde hair, or curled around his neck. Even once or twice she had found her fingers tucked inside his pants, gently stroking the soft patches of skin there.

His voice was in her ear as he played with the skin at her neck, his warm mouth sweeping over her veins as her heart throbbed.

It rumbled in its husky way, egging her on, softly.

"Please, Ginny. Please, let me be with you. I love you, oh I love you, I swear," he said. But each time she pulled away, waiting for her certain moment.

She was trying to catch his mouth again, pulling her fingers back from their designated area when he gently pushed her away, confusion and frustration tossing in his voice.

"What? Is it me? What is it?" he asked, frantically checking his breath. She leaned back on her hands and looked down at her lap, sighing.

"It isn't you," she murmured. He shook his head.

"Then what _is_ it?" he ran a stiff hand through his hair, panting. She leaned forward again, fumbling with her fingers.

"I - I just - I - I don't know if I'm ready yet, Draco. I'm only 16," she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket. He opened his mouth and closed it, opening his eyes. And then he sat back, abruptly, and looked at her.

"Oh," he said, almost surprised. He certainly didn't want to rush her, he knew. But it just boiled him up so badly, to know that she was playing all these games and teasing him, and not even letting him have what he wanted. His mind let it all wash away as she shrugged sheepishly and crawled forward, straddling his hips and pressing her mouth against his. Moments later of touching and feeling and grinding, his fingers had curled around the waistband of her pants and were tugging, gently. She jerked back, as if burned, and looked down at him. He blew out an exasperated sigh and stood up, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"It's so frustrating! I want you so badly, but yet every time I get close to you, or we actually get close to that point, you push me away. I want to be with you, Ginny. I want to be a part of you," he said, ending softly. There was a part of her that didn't want to follow him, because it was afraid of all the pain, but there was another that just wanted him to push her on, past this tumbling fear and into no-man's-land. And she was going to. She just didn't know when.

"Just wait for me, Draco. Please, say you will. Just a little longer. Wait for me to be ready," she pleaded. She didn't want to let him go, like a fool. She did want him. She loved him. But she just couldn't go that fast.

He turned, eyes closed, and sighed again.

"Ginny - I - I'll try, but - you're - you're just _so _-" he began. She waited there, sunken down by this hated feeling of sadness, waiting for whatever would sum her up in his eyes. But he didn't finish. And if he did, she never heard it. Because there, blaring like headlights to a deer, was her brother, her _brother, _bursting through the trapdoor and came screaming toward her, knocking her silly with a blow to the head and pummeling her into the hard stone wall. As she sunk to the floor, and watched Draco lift and beat her brother away through half-lidded eyes, she felt the blood running down her face and hit her lips. The taste in her mouth was hot a metallic, throbbing in her throat as she swallowed dryly. Then the room stilled, showing Draco standing over Ron with a red face, and she dropped off into oblivion.

* * *

Bah, I know it's bad. And I'm so dreadfully sorry it took a bad… three? Months to get me up and running, but rest assured I haven't forgotten thee! Everything's doing good, updates will be on their way soon!


	7. Chapter Seven

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

_

* * *

_

Her head burned and throbbed as she cracked her heavy eyelids, squeezing them back tight shut as the sun slowly filtered through. Relief flooded through her as she was cast into shadow, bravely rolling her eyes around in her head before opening them. As she did she was overcome by a cool sensation, like cold water gently sifting through her veins. It was even, smooth, and thoughtless, just like the forest green hangingsof his bed. She bit back a sad sigh.

_'Well, this feels nice,'_ she thought, gently petting the new silk coverlet. "Not bad at all," she said aloud, slightly wincing at the pain it inflicted.

"Glad you agree," a voice answered. She didn't stir.

Rustling on the other side startled her enough to cover her eyes protectively, inflicting forgotten pain to the wide-split injury that was blooming bruises across her face and eyes. She shifted painfully and gripped the cover tightly.

"Shh now. Don't touch it, Gin. Stop, stop, it's still bleeding, don't touch it," he instructed in strangely calm, even, commanding tones.

She reluctantly let her hand fall, bringing it up the bed and over the pillow to clutch the back of her aching head.

"This might hurt some. And if it doesn't, it'll tickle," he said quietly, leaning over her stiffly. She squeezed her eyes shut and went rigid, holding her breath. A small pinprick to her face bloomed into massive pounding that screwed up her eyes and made her vision blur. Then the pain seemed to ebb away, and gave way to a brilliantly bright tickling sensation that made her giggle. He leaned away, and she noticed that without her pain distracting her, she could smell his cologne.

"There. Don't move your head too much around. Just lay still; a house-elf brought you some broth from the kitchens. He figured that you wouldn't have to chew much to eat," he said quietly with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, and then was off into the other half of his room. She heard dishes clink idly together, so she turned her head gently to look through the crack in the hangings, taking the chance to examine his own injuries.

His face had a large bruise just above his right eye, which made sense, because Ron was left handed. The skin around that eye was blackening slightly and puffing up as he blinked, wincing at the pain. Then he spun around, and she saw he had a fattening lip that bled somewhat as his tongue idlyswept over it. She opened her mouth to question him, but was stopped by his stiff hand.

"No, don't. I don't want to talk about it right now. Just eat," he said, setting the small tray over her legs. His hands were cold and rough as he helped her prop herself up to get to it, pain in each of her limbs. She sipped her broth quietly while he watched, sipping his own from a mug in his hands. She turned back to her bowl and sat in silence, waiting for him to speak.

"You gave me a hell of a scare back there, sweets," he said, giving her a small smile. "When your brother came in and you just _fell_, I almost killed the bloke."

She gave him a half smile.

"He's not comfortable about this at all. He's tried many times to get me away from you. Even Harry has, which is strange," she said in thoughtfulness.

He glanced over at her.

"Pothead said something to you? What exactly did he say?"

She shrugged.

"It was that night I came back from your room late. He was drunk - it was very evident - and he kept on snarling at me and asking me where I had been. I told him I was in your room and he seemed to blow a fuse and went on into all this stuff. But that was before..." she said, waving her hand to dismiss it. Then she shrugged again.

"I cannot believe I liked him. Why didn't I listen to you?" she giggled. He smiled.

"I dunno. That boy's got it in for him, though," he said quietly.

"What'd he say to you?"

He shrugged.

"A bunch of shit. He bluffed a lot, said a bunch of threats, tried to throw a couple punches but missed."

"Oh."

She sipped her broth.

"He's so stupid," Draco laughed abruptly, setting down his mug.

Ginny looked up at him, surprised. She giggled.

"Yeah, he is," she sighed. "And that's just too bad."

She dropped her spoon into her bowl and gave a great, irritated huff of a breath.

"Come here," she instructed. He tilted his head and looked at her, leaning forward reluctantly.

"Now hold still," she said, groping the side tabletop for her wand. She tapped his eye three times and the swelling went down, then dipped a rag she'd conjured into a bowl of water on the table and pressed it against the wound. He held it there while she reduced the swelling in his lip and brushed her thumb across the cut, healing it instantly. With her hand on his face, her thumb on his lip, she let out a soft sigh and slowly pressed her head forward, touching his lips with hers. Then she pulled away, and ducked her head, turning back to her broth.

"Sorry," she murmured, sipping the soup again. He didn't move - he didn't even say anything or laugh. Then he dropped the cloth to the table and gently took hold of her head with his hands, pulling her forward. He gave a grim smile and lowered his head, brushing her lips with his in return. She shook as he held her there, then groaned and tore away, laying back into the pillows.

"Are you okay?" he said, leaning forward again. She nodded silently and turned back to her broth, plucking at the spoon with her left hand. He reached across the bedspread and took her right in his left, dragging his thumb across the smooth surface of her hand, smiling.

"It'll be fine. We'll be okay. It was just your brother, right? He's crazy, so that's predictable. Just the trio, and we've practically conquered that already," he said, squeezing her hand. She looked out the window and felt her eyelids falling.

"You should get some sleep," he said after awhile, their dishes empty and discarded on the table. He sat back on the pillows like she did, cuddled up comfortably next to each other as the fire blazed in a small mound from the hearth.

"You should get some sleep," she copied, snickering. He rolled his eyes.

"Really, Ginny, it's almost 3 in the morning," he said, draping an arm across her shoulders, careful not to touch her head.

"Really, Draco, it's almost 3 in the morning," she yawned.

"Ginny, stop it. You're acting stupid," he said sleepily.

"Draco, stop it. You're acting stupid," she mimicked.

"Stop it. You're making me sound like an idiot," he said quickly.

"Stop it. You sound like an idiot," she said, a crooked smile hanging from her lips. He shook his head and snuggled downward, pulling the blanket up to her chest. She pushed it back down, huffing a sigh.

He shook his head and dropped it back onto the pillow, grinning as she did the same. He draped an arm comfortingly across her chest, hugging her to him.

I was never alive

Til the day I was blessed with you

When I hold you late at night

I know what I was put here to do

I turn off the world

And listen to you sigh

And I will sing my angel's lullaby

-

She smiled gently, squeezing his hand.

-

Know I'm forever here

The one you can always call

Right now all you know to fear

Are the shadows on your wall

And I'm here close enough

To kiss the tears you cry

And I will sing my angel's lullaby

-

So tell me how to stop the years from racing

Is there a secret someone knows

I'll never catch all the memories I'm chasing

I'll never be ready to let go

-

And when the world seems cold

You feel that all of your strength is gone

There may be one tiny voice

Your reason to carry on

And when I'm not close enough

To kiss the tears you cry

You will sing your angel's lullaby

* * *

"Wake up, sleepy head," came a gentle, rough whisper in her ear.

"I wasn't sleeping. Honest," came the quiet muttering from beneath the covers. She gave a grumpy huff of breath and snuggled further down, nuzzling her face into his chest. He laughed and peeled her away from him, using his feet to push the both of them into the floor. The hard impact jolted her suddenly, and she sat up, and said, "I'm awake!"

He laughed at her dazed expression and shook his head, sitting up and pulling her to a standing position. Then he stood her, quite unsteadily, in the doorframe of the bathroom, and gave her a push; she turned to object, but he wiggled his fingers and grinned, shutting the door.

"Take a shower, we have classes this morning," he called through the wood. After a few moments of silence, he heard the water running. With a quiet laugh he turned to a door to the left and opened it, going upstairs. He grabbed a towel from a shelf and opened the upstairs bathroom, slipped in, and shut the door behind him. Below, he could hear Ginny's off-tune singing of the lullaby he'd sang her to sleep with the night before.

When he got out, the bathroom door was still shut. He shook his head and pulled on some boxers, reaching into his wardrobe for a fresh pair of khakis and a belt. Once he had his pants on he heard the hinges to the bathroom door creak, softly. He turned his head and saw Ginny, wrapped in a rather large, fluffy, black towel with wet red hair standing in the doorway.

"Well well well. Look who _finally_ came to her senses," he smirked, coming toward her. She narrowed her eyes and smirked back, about to close the door.

"Don't jump to conclusions, Draco. I don't have any other clothes to wear," she said quietly.

He shrugged.

"If I were you, I'd go out like that. The blokes would _love _it," he grinned. She pulled on a sneer.

"Or," he continued with a hint of mock-sadness, "you could wear the clean uniform Granger brought you while I was in the shower upstairs."

"Could you hand it to me, please?" she said, retreating back into the bathroom.

"And what would stop you from sauntering out here yourself and getting it?" he said, gesturing toward the folded stack of clothing on the side of the bed.

"Crazy gits like yourself," she said sweetly. He shrugged and picked it up, handing the stack to her.

"Suit yourself," he said, before she was back into the bathroom, shutting the door.

He pulled out a white shirt and shrugged it onto his shoulders, tucking it into his pants and buttoning it all the way up. Hethenpulled a silver and green tie off the rack and secured it around his neck, tightening the knot at his throat. As hetugged the gray vest over all of it, he laughed as she heard her singing again in the bathroom.

"Tone it down in there," he called, and she stopped abruptly, pulling on her knee-high gray socks. She smoothed down her gray pleated skirt and adjusted her white oxford shirt, which she rolled up the sleevesto her elbow. She adjusted her red and gold tie and pulled on her vest, drying her hair with a quick spell. She snatched her shoes off the toilet seat and opened the door, grinning at the sight.

"Shut up, you," he growled, combing his hair. She had caught him standing thoughtfully in front of the mirror, adjusting his uniform and hair. She plopped down on his bed and pulled on her shoes, snapping the straps as she admired her picture in the gleaming shininess of her shoes. He ruffled her hair lovingly and slipped into his own black shoes, unhooking his school robes from a hook in the closet. She unfolded hers and pulled them onto her arms, looking around for her book bag. It swung in front of her, hanging from his hand, and she took it, slinging it over her shoulder.

"So what am I supposed to do about - about - ?" she said, touching her temple with two fingers. He grabbed her chin, gently, and turned her head from side to side slowly.

"It doesn't look too bad," he shrugged.

"Alright. Well, I guess that we should go," she laughed as her stomach gave a mighty growl.

"Whatever you say," he said, reaching for her hand. They walked slowly out the door, through the crowded Common Room, and into the hallway, barely uttering a word. Along the way, people seemed to skirt them in the corridors, and some people stopped completely and stared. He squeezed her hand. They'd get through it.

* * *

He lead her down the steps and into the Great Hall, where she noticed with a gentle breath of relief that her brother wasn't present. In fact, the Trio itself was completely absent. Ginny nodded to Draco who tilted his head slightly in reply, before departing. Ginny shook her head and sat at her own table, snuggling between Neville and Dean. She had only just begun to tuck into a plate of eggs and toast when Dean looked at her and did a double take, before crying out, quite loudly, "Good Lord, Ginny, what in bloody hell happened to your _head?"_

The whole table seemed to turn.

She dropped her fork with her eyes wide and touched two fingers to her temple, feeling her face grow hot. _What to say, what to say?_ her brain panicked, thoughts fleeting through her head. Without a thought she blurted, "My brother hit me on accident."

Dean leaned back, brushing back red hair to examine the bruised, swollen temple.

"Your **brother**?" he said in disbelief, jerking his hand back as she winced.

"Yes, my brother," she murmured shakily. "It's nothing. Like I said, just an accident. A slip. No big deal," she shrugged with false assurance. Neville whistled through his teeth.

"One bloody hell of a slip, then," he said. He reached across the table and touched Ginny's hand.

"It'll be a'right. Ron's just a bit iffy these days. You'll be ok," he nodded. She shrugged and smiled gently when Dean slipped an arm across her shoulders.

"Yeah. Don't let big bad Ron and his crew get t'ya. They're just a bunch of bluffers, they are. But if you ever find yourself in a tizzy with them, just holler," he winked, removing his arm. Ginny laughed and picked her fork back up, carefully covering the wound with her hair.

* * *

Months went by. November rolled around, fallen leaves piled up outside and wonderful holiday stories rooted up from visiting family members and parents. Alumni came from all over the place to laugh and have good times with their old headmaster, who welcomed them with open arms. Ginny's mother and father, however, couldn't come. The Ministry was having little breakdowns everywhere a mistake bloomed; Voldemort was said to've been seen in the western part of Scotland in September. In October, he was in France. At the beginning in November, he'd been in Muggle London, hiding out beneath the name of Scotty Renfro. People went _missing_. Bill, Charlie, and (quite unfortunately) Percy came, though, with reassurances that the Ministry could get themselves out of their hole and that Mum and Dad were fine, just a bit mad that they couldn't make it. Extra tables had to be added to the already crammed Great Hall, and Houses sat almost back-to-back at mealtimes. 

One evening, as dinner was proceeding, Draco caught Ginny's eye. He tilted his head and waved in her direction, gesturing with his head toward his Mother, who sat stiff and pristine, with a smile on her face. Draco nudged her and pointed in Ginny's direction, and she waved. Ginny, quite uncertain, waved back; she hadn't forgotten how his Mother had acted when she was in third year at the World Cup, where all she did was snarl and shoot terribly nasty looks toward other people. The woman seemed different; she no longer had that straight, stringy, white-platinum bottle-blond hair; her hair was black and thick with curls that bounced as she waved. Draco stood up, bade his Mother to do so also, and beckoned toward the door, where Ginny found herself standing and walking as well.

"Hey, Ginny," Draco grinned, taking her hand. His mother stopped the two of them and stood at arms length, examining Ginny. She smiled.

"Well. You're just right lovely, aren't you? That hair - absolutely gorgeous, darling, absolutely gorgeous. Well, this is nice - you aren't too skinny, not chubby either, you have a nice figure and you aren't too tall; and look at that face. Such sophistication! She's truly adorable, Draco," she beamed. Draco's cheeks fluttered pink. He shrugged, and let go of Ginny's hand.

"Ginny, this is my mother, Narcissa. Mother, this is Ginny," he said, taking her hand again. Narcissa's shoulders hunched a bit and she giggled.

"This is lovely, lovely! Oh, Ginny, I used to be best friends with your mother. Molly was such a prankster and I loved her to death! She sent word the other day; she said she couldn't come to this Alumni type thing. When I sent back word Draco had mentioned you, so I stuck you in there. Molly said it would be wonderful if you'd come for Christmas with us."

Ginny opened her mouth and couldn't help but laugh at Draco's shocked expression.

"Oh, I'd - I'd - "

What, Ginny, having second thoughts? What are you going to do, stick around so Harry can make eyes at you and throw himself to you? Are you going to let ickle Ronnikins beat you up while Hermione stands around and watches? Oh, come on! Liven it up, Gin-girl!

" - I'd love to!" she finished breathlessly. Draco's figure relaxed and he draped an arm across Ginny's shoulders, squeezing them tight.

"Great! You'll love it, Ginny. I swear, you will," he grinned. Narcissa checked her watch.

"Draco, dear, I've got to go. I've got some - er - things to do, back at the house, your father's guests have been showing up and it's been rather cold there…"

She leaned across and kissed his cheek.

"Be good, and I'll see the both of you come holiday!"

She hugged Ginny and then was gone out the door, to a strange black carriage that was waiting at the bottom of the steps, red-coated thestrals stamping their hooves and snorting into the frosty air.

Draco's grin had slipped gently as he watched them leave. He turned to Ginny hugging her tight to him.

"See, that was good. Just be glad it wasn't my Father, he'd've - well - I don't want to talk about that," he finished, leaning away. Ginny was still watching the door, a slightly worried expression gracing her features.

"Don't fret, Ginny," he chuckled. "She likes you. Although I don't much see why not."

He tilted her chin up and kissed her, sighing as their lips touched. Ginny pushed her hands around his waist to hug him to her, bracing herself by the hand that wrapped around her neck, craning her head upwards, and the hand that was on the small of her back, pulling her tighter to him…

Someone cleared their throat loudly. Ginny jumped back and pushed her face into Draco's coat, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Say, Malfoy, that wouldn't be my baby sister you're hiding so badly in your cloak, would it?" said a highly amused, but very cold voice from the doorway. It was familiar, she had to say, but in her state of fuzzy memory, she couldn't _quite_ place it…

"Bill, let her alone. She's 16, you know," said another voice, a bit deeper, but exactly the same tone.

"I just want to know, Charlie," the first laughed. Another voice, very different from the two, snorted.

"Oh, come on. You can tell it's Ginny; but what she's doing with Draco Malfoy I haven't got a clue."

"Shut up, Percy. You're never around, and so you wouldn't know. Besides, it was a joke," Bill grumbled.

Charlie laughed.

"Percy wouldn't know a joke if it danced naked in front of him in a house-elf's tea towel," he cackled. Ginny slowly pulled away from Draco, a faint grin on her lips.

"Ah, see, I told you it was Ginny," Percy pointed out with a satisfied snort. Bill rolled his eyes and pushed him aside.

"Ah, Gin, you're crazy, you know?"

She shrugged.

"And so I'm told."

"Yeah, I bet you are. Anyway, come hug us, dearest, 'cause Mum wants us home soon," Charlie sighed. Ginny pouted.

"Can't you stay just another day?" she pleaded. Bill shook his head.

"Ginny, we have to go. This whole thing with the Ministry's drying us out. Besides, Charlie was only supposed to be off for so long," Percy twittered.

"Shut up, Percy. Anyway, come say goodbye. We'll be seeing you soon, won't we?"

Ginny blanched, and Draco cleared his throat nervously beside her.

"Uh… I'll owl you," she said, smiling calmly. Each of them enveloped her in a bear like hug, setting her into a fit of giggles. Percy squeezed her and stepped away, brushing hair out of her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she saw him smile. They moved away, shaking Draco's hand firmly, uttering small threats beneath their breaths. Except Percy, who whispered, "Tell your dad the place is almost ready." Draco gave him a disgusted, but curious glare as he walked away toward the other two.

"We'll see you on Christmas," they called as they walked down the steps. "Keep in touch!"

"I'll owl you if I can't make it!" she called back, watching their faces change from sad smiles to shock and curiosity.

"Where _else_ would you go?" they bellowed, stopping. Ginny looked at her watch.

"I can't say - gotta go - I'll owl you!" she yelled as she pushed Draco down the hall, away from the door. He grinned and pulled her toward him, ducking his head to meet her lips.

"That was fun," he sniggered. She scowled and socked him in the arm. "Shut up, you."

* * *

**Blech. The end, thank goodness! But be proud, mateys! Wrote this one in a good two days of christmas-harassment! I dunno how many of you'll read this beforehand, but to all that do, Merry Christmas, Happy Chrimbo! **

**Can you guess which line is from The Goblet of Fire? He he he... **

**The song 'Angel's Lullaby' belongs to a man called...Richard Marx? I think that's his name, but if it's not I'm sorry and it doesn't belong to me, I want no credit - nor does the characters and all the places and blah blah blah belong to me! THEY belong to J.K. Rowling, who's putting her newest book, 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' out on JULY 16TH 2005! MARK YOUR CALENDARS!!!**

**Toodles!**

**Gabi217**


	8. Chapter Eight

****

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

****

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

Later that evening, Ginny came into the Common Room looking very flustered and red in the face (Draco hadn't let her back up to her tower until he showed her what it was like to be snogged in the _snow) _ and was trudging back up to the Dormitories until Hermione's shoe snagged on her robes, presumably on purpose. The older girl looked into her eyes, avoiding Ginny's stare of ignorance, peering into her mind to figure out what was amiss. Harry and Ron pouted together in a corner, passing back and forth what looked like a fresh, filched bottle of firewhisky. They were muttering incoherently and staring in her direction; behind her Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown giggled uncontrollably as Neville tried rather unsuccessfully to capture his toad, Trevor, from jumping into an open bowl of murtlap essence, where Colin Creevey was soaking his bleeding hand from fighting with his jinxed camera. Hermione shook her head and untangled her foot, admitting the younger girl entrance to the other half of the room. She stalked past them, as silently as she could, and stomped up the Dorm steps, slamming the door behind her for an undisturbed slumber.

__

She could feel the voices in her head, each sharp voice prodding and poking like her stupid brother's friends', each demanding something from her feeble mind. She made attempts to stop them, cease them, cut them off as she ran from them… She flew down a black hallway, the doors on either side not as appealing as the one on end. There were people inside, she could hear them berating someone, but as her fingers curled around the knob she knew something was wrong… her spine suddenly went stiff and the voices in her head grew louder, 'Run away, listen to me, run away, I command you…' And then she was running running running, back from whence she came, when she met a white-blond tower, a snarl etched into his impulsively cruel face, the snake's head of his cane glowing as he clutched it hard…

She sat upright abruptly, panting, Parvati and Lavender leaning over her bed, curious, almost afraid looks on their faces.

"Ginny! Ginny, are you ok? Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

She pushed herself upwards onto the pillows, trying to take hold of what they'd said. She could still see Lucius's awful face, that awful snarl, and his voice in her head, commanding her to run…

"I have to tell Draco!" she whispered, eyes closing as she forced herself to memorize the dream.

"Tell Draco what?" two voices quipped in unison.

"Lavender! Parvati! What are you doing here?" she inquired, quite belatedly, looking around the room.

"Hermione sent us up from the Common Room to check on you," Lavender answered, yawning. "She said she saw you come up before, and said you looked in a right state, and that we should come and see in a bit if you were okay."

She opened and closed her mouth. Parvati shrugged.

"Harry and Ron were acting a lot like trolls today. They kept saying things about how you were untrustworthy, and how Malfoy's blood was the filthiest to be pure, and all this other wild, crazy stuff… We hadn't had any type of clue until Hermione filled us in," she said, eyeing Ginny evilly. Lavender pounced onto her bed, Parvati climbing up beside her.

"So tell us, Ginny dearest, how we've become the last to know things? Have you been in such a shoddy state that you can't even tell us what's been going down in that little life of yours?" Lavender giggled.

Ginny shrugged, now. She huffed a sigh and fell back onto her pillows, the room still blurry before her.

"You two are older than I am. And, without a bit of disrespect, perhaps the most gossipy girls in our house. I couldn't possibly confide in the two of you," Ginny murmured, patting Lavender's hand amiably.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Dean and I, does it?" Lavender said, eyeing her suspiciously.

"And so what if it does?" Parvati said, slipping Lavender a sideways glance. She squirmed with discomfort, her impassable face turning away from the two.

"Because," she murmured, barely loud enough to hear, "he's asked me to marry him at the end of year." Red tint flooded up her neck to her cheeks. Parvati gasped.

"Lavender! You traitor! How long have you known this?" she cried in anguish at her best friend's secretiveness.

Lavender spun on the two of them, mouth open in shock.

"It only just happened, you dolt! Just calm down, would you? God, I'd be in a right horrible state if I didn't tell you sooner or later, and I really didn't know what to say to begin with," she snapped.

Parvati sat back, frozen. Ginny watched in slight amusement, one of Draco's trademark smirks slipping onto her lips. Parvati glanced from Ginny to Lavender, and then back to Ginny.

"Don't make faces, this is serious! And why do you have to go 'round looking like Malfoy all the time? Don't you know that people get enough of the stupid git already; we don't really need another just alike…" she sniffed. Ginny frowned.

"Draco's not really all that bad, Parvati, you just have to see his side… he's actually quite a person; he's a wonderful singer, and he's quite the conversationalist…" she pointed out, taking up for him. Lavender rolled her eyes.

"Malfoy, sing? Ha! The day I hear him sing is the day Parvati gives me all her clothes," she snorted.

"Don't be kidding us, Ginny. Malfoy's the pits and we all know it. The way he prances around, like his expensive French black silk boxers ride up his arse every time he takes a ruddy step - " Parvati dreamily informed them.

She stopped, looking at the two of them. Lavender looked at her friend, disgusted, while Ginny was more shocked that sickened.

"You know what his boxers look like?" they both inquired at once, both tones mingling into a high shriek like one of that cow, Pansy Parkinson.

"Well… it's a long story, you know, quite funny, actually - "

"You were in his bedroom! You probably saw him when he got out of the shower or -" she gasped " - or when he was sleeping - oh, hell!" she cried, realization dawning. "You - you slept with him!" Ginny indicted, pointing at her with one hand, while the other hand covered her mouth. Lavender let out a rather unladylike scream and fell backwards off the bed, where she had balanced precariously, anxious to hear Ginny's thought. Parvati gasped, turning several shades of maroon.

"It - it wasn't like that, it was one time - after - after the Yule Ball… I was just 14… I didn't know what to _do… _he was just there… Pansy had left… I'd had far too much to drink - I had been feeling a little buzzed - and he said the most wonderful things to me," she ended with a quite whine. Ginny looked at her, head tilted.

"I thought you'd been with those Beauxbatons - those French boys - the ones you said you had eyes for?" Ginny recalled, envisioning Parvati and her twin Padma surrounded by handsome Beauxbaton boys.

She shrugged, face still very bright red.

"Somewhere along the way one of them gave me something - it was some type of liquid, very warm going down - oh, and it was so good! I kept drinking it and drinking it and then I just - well, I just - wandered away," she concluded. Ginny eyed her.

"I still don't see where Draco comes into this picture," she growled. Parvati seemed to shrink beneath her stare.

"I - well - I went into the hall - he and Pansy had been fighting. She'd stomped off, shaking the whole castle seems like, with those two ugly goons, Goyle and Crabbe, shadowing her down the corridor. Then he spotted me and - and - well, geez - it was very sudden - " she cleared her throat " we - er… talked - I followed him back, and poof! It was all very fast, and he made me promise the next morning that I wouldn't tell a soul, and I'd never contact him again," she finished sheepishly, cheeks still glowing in the premature dark.

"So you… 'talked'. Since when does Draco 'talk'?" Ginny snarled, growling. Lavender crawled back onto the bed, resting her head on the pillow coverlet.

"God, Parvati, you owe me for this, now. And you just bit my head off for not telling you 'bout Dean! What is that supposed to tell me about you?!" she cried. Ginny reached out and patted her head.

"Lav, calm down. Parvati's just been a little strange lately, hasn't she? She'll settle down, now that she's got that off her chest. Just a little secret that only the four of us know about," she said warmly.

Parvati's neck seemed to snap as she looked hurriedly around the room.

"What?" Lavender asked, inquiring her panicked expression. Parvati counted them with her eyes.

"Three, Ginny. There's only three of us in here, silly girl," she corrected, laughing nervously. Ginny eyed her, smirking once again.

"Oh, no, Parvati. You miscounted. There's you, Lavender, me, and Draco, who - mind you - will be suffering from a severe tongue lashing by yours truly when I'm done with him," she said, grinning maliciously. Parvati's face formed a look of something that resembled horror.

"NO! No, Ginny, you can't do that - I mean - if he finds out that I told - that I snitched - he's Head Boy, I mean - something could happen to me - I mean I bet he hasn't forgotten about it - oh my God…" she moaned, covering her face with her hands. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Parvati's horrified face resurfaced as the knock became persistent.

"Hello? Parvati? Lavender? Ginny? Anybody in there? Hello…" came Hermione's voice, muffled through the wood. Ginny shot them severe burn looks before snuggling beneath the covers, feigning sleep. Lavender cleared her throat, standing up simultaneously next to Parvati.

"Come in, Hermione," they chirped, voices mingling as the door clicked open and Hermione walked slowly into the warm room.

"We were just leaving," Parvati said quietly.

"She's been sleeping - we were just leaving - she looks ok, though - we were just admiring her sleep - such a pretty girl - " Lavender babbled, stopping abruptly at Parvati's smooth elbow in the ribs.

"See you," they quipped in unison, slipping hurriedly out the door, shutting it with a brief, cold 'click'.

Hermione watched Ginny's form, rising and falling evenly in a professionally feigned sleep, and felt her chest twinge. She plopped down, rather unceremoniously, next to Ginny, her back to her lumpy figure. She wrung her hands together for a few moments, clearing her throat as the silence set in. Then, with a rather unclear murmur, she began to talk.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. Everybody misses you; Harry and Ron so much they're hating you. But I promised myself I wouldn't give up on you, until I was sure I'd been clear enough, understood. And I suppose the only way I'm going to be heard is while you're sleeping, so I hope this registers in your dreams."

Ginny mulled over what she'd said for a moment, recalling the dream she'd had minutes before. It made her shudder, involuntarily. Hermione seemed not to notice. Instead, she sniffed and cleared her throat, plowing on into her speech.

"There's been a rather sudden change in you this year, and I am beginning to see, to your delight, that perhaps it's for the better, even though Ron and Harry don't see that very clearly. They won't except, and I rather think that a lot of us have neglected to, until now, that you are growing up into who we are and were, and we're all quite afraid of it. After all, you've always been Molly's baby; Charlie and Bill cackled and carried on while they were here about your baby stories and your funny childish habits, but we all know they're having a rather hard time with you growing up too."

She chuckled.

"And Ron - Ron will _not_ get over the fact that you're going to be with boys. He keeps seeing you, everywhere, and jumping to all sorts of wild conclusions… the other day, even, when you stopped at Filch's office to ask about a lost book bag, Ron went nutters and went into all this junk about how you were seeing him behind Draco's back - who you shouldn't be seeing at all, from what he thinks - and how you were going to get expelled for being 'involved' with staff members. Everyone else had a good laugh about it, but Ron and Harry - well - they're inconvincible, I guess."

She paused again to sigh. Then she placed a relinquishing hand on the big lump that was Ginny's hipbone, and patted it gently.

"I give up, Ginny. I don't like fighting with you, because - like Ron - you have the dirtiest temper ever. I'm on your side, I suppose. I'll help you whenever you need it, but all you have to do is ask."

She sat up, the bed creaking rather loud in the quiet room, and walked to the door.

"I'll be around, Ginny," she murmured, before she opened the door, and was gone again.

She sat up immediately, thinking about everything that had happened in the last 20 minutes. She grabbed the Invisibility Cloak she'd gotten one Christmas as a gift from Tonks, sweeping it over her shoulders. Then she opened the window, and grabbed the broom she'd filched from the broom cupboard back home one summer (presumably Fred's, as he'd carried on about a missing broom for _ages,_ although Ginny secretly knew that _he_ secretly knew it was her that stole it; he spent the summer complaining about it until Mum had to buy him another). She checked the sky, which was clear of other students and any type of precipitation. She mounted the broom, tightened the Cloak so it wouldn't fly off, and pushed off into the sky, relishing the open, cold air on her face before she zoomed up and turned her broom straight down, nose-diving a few floors toward the Dungeon dorm windows. She pulled up abruptly about 7 feet up, hovering just above the windows until she wasn't sure which one was Draco's. The rooms themselves were rather empty, each the same; she gave a great huff of irritation and looked around, searching for something familiar. And then, just out in front of her on the edge of the woods, was a certain tree. It's large, arm like branches swept across the sky, the right branch with a red tag around it, turning its trunk a certain orange-red color in the light. She floated to each window, watching the tree and observing its properties and placement, until she came to the window where she'd seen it most, just as it was. She gave a triumphant grin and reached for her wand, resting her foot on the window sill and whispering, "_Alohomora."_

The window clicked and with a gentle push clicked open, swinging rather widely and hitting the stone wall with a dull, curtain muffled 'thud'. She hovered in and stepped down, Invisibility Cloak still fastened tight around her. Setting her broom aside, she reached for the window, shutting it rather louder than she would've liked. The bathroom door, across the room, gave a great lurch and a very embarrassed, almost _naked _Draco Malfoy stood across the threshold, shock and surprise evident on his face.

"Hey, who's there?" he called, eyes narrowing on the window. They shifted and searched the room in suspicion.

"I said, 'who's there.'"

She grinned but didn't answer, instead slipping silently across the room until she was just near him. She mentally thanked Merlin she'd been outside in the cold; she knew the way he was breathing he was sniffing for a scent.

"If you don't bloody tell me who's there I'll - "

"You'll what?" she chided, disguising her voice with natural deepness. "Cuff me with your towel?"

His face pulled itself closed together, a certain slyness slipping into his open metallic eyes, a pink tint crawling up his neck. He snatched at the air while she silently sniggered, dodging his attempts at capture.

"Listen, I don't know who the bloody hell you are, but you'd better leave… I'll - I'll - "

She laughed out loud, now, her voice still disguised.

"We've already established that you can't do a bloody thing, Draco. 'Cause if you remove your towel, I'm afraid your - erm - _goodies_, might fall out," she snickered in her normal voice, hiccupping and clapping a hand over her mouth. His face fell into a smirk. He reached out at the air, eyes melting from their hardness.

"Come off it, Ginny. You know damn well you want my 'goodies'," he responded smoothly. She pulled the cloak off and shook her head, smoothing down her still bed-ruffled hair.

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a _pompous ass,_ I would. But as for I favor my eyesight at this very moment, perhaps so that I can commit to memory your mask of terror and surprise, not to mention your _nakedness_, I think I'll save that wonderful opportunity for some other time," she giggled, tossing her cloak aside and throwing herself at his bed. He leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms across his pale, gleaming chest. She snuggled her head in his pillows and closed her eyes, breathing him in as he stared across the room at her.

"So what's with the late-night visit, Gin?" he murmured, walking to his wardrobe and pulling out a pair of - she gasped - black French silk boxers. She obediently closed her eyes as he pulled them on, but uncovered them as soon as she heard the elastic slap against his skin.

"Well, I came down to ask you about something I've heard from a friend of mine. And I also came here because - I - well - I think I - I _like_ sleeping in your room at night. It makes me feel - it makes me feel safe, sort of," she concluded shyly, shrugging. He grinned and dove into the empty space next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"No, not right now, I have to talk to you," she muttered irritably, prying his arms off her as she sat up on her knees. He rolled over on his side and raised his head on his elbow, watching her.

"Alright, so talk." She crossed her arms and pouted.

"I cannot talk to you with you _staring_ at me like that."

"Like what?" he quipped innocently, wide silver eyes peering innocently but intently up at her. She scowled.

"Just like you are!"

He tilted his head in befuddlement. She huffed.

"Oh, never mind. Anyway, I came in to see if a certain - _ahem_ - rumor, was true," she snickered. He glared up at her now, eyes narrowing in familiar suspicion.

"What _kind_ of rumor?" he growled. She smirked, having turned the tables, straightening her spine and tilting her chin defiantly.

"The kind that involves you sleeping with Parvati Patil in your fourth year," she said, smirk widening as his face fell into shock. He sat up, glaring her in the eye.

"Who told _you_ about _that_?" he growled, eyes narrowing again. She rolled her eyes - like it hadn't been obvious?

"Why, Parvati herself, of course! How _else_ would I find out such useful blackmailing information but from the Queen of Gossip? How _else_ would I find out you'd coaxed her into sleeping with you after the Yule Ball - you yourself, being a _Slytherin, _who found sexual company from a _Gryffindor_?"

He stared at her, silent. Caught in his own booby trap. She sniggered.

"Oh, oh, oh… what to do? Didn't think anyone would've ever found out about that one, would you? Didn't think Patil herself would crack under a decent bit of loathing and French black silk boxers?" she grinned maliciously, snapping the waistband.

Now he huffed.

"Now, Ginny, don't jump to conclusions, dearest. Parvati's probably thinking about someone else. After all, a girl like that lacks brains and memory, therefore she could easily confuse names. She's a big blackmailer herself, and so perhaps she found that if she triggered something in _your_ head, she could blackmail _you_ for coming out to _me,_ if she thinks you're interested enough. After all, girls like that _are_ capable of that particular kind of observation and would therefore gossip about you, if she abhorred you enough," he said, shrugging guiltlessly. She narrowed her eyes.

"Shut up. You know it's true. And the whole of my House knows I'm quite taken with you, and therefore you are the reason why none of them are _talking_ to me, thank you very much. It's bad enough I have you breathing down my neck all the bloody time, but now I have them watching my every stinking move. So thank you, Draco. Thank you oh-so much," she snarled. He shook his head, eyes closed, sitting up on his knees to crawl toward her.

"Ginny, you're jumping ahead, you. I did _not_ sleep with Parvati."

She scoffed.

"Yes you did. Don't lie."

"On the contrary. I slept with Padma."

Dead silence filled the room. She spun on him and pushed him, hard, in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the floor. He emitted a mixture of an 'oof' and a yell, tumbling backwards. She crossed her arms again, glaring in satisfaction towards his spread-eagled body.

"Serves you right," she called. He grumbled something and kicked his legs, finding it impossible to move seeing as his head was against the wall, neck bent, and his legs were resting upright on the bed.

"Help me up," came the garbled response. She snorted.

"And _why_ would _I_ do _that?_" she inquired sweetly, sitting back on her haunches. He huffed.

"'Cause I'm breaking my fucking neck! Help me the fuck up!" he squealed. She couldn't help but break into a fit of giggles; he'd sounded just like a duck!

"Stop your giggling! I said help me the fuck up!" he yelled, kicking his legs furiously. She merely dissolved into more giggles, falling backwards to the floor on the opposite side of the bed. He huffed and lay crossly, twitching his foot in impatience.

"Stupid ruddy girls, with their stupid bloody giggling, can't even help a fellow onto his feet…" he muttered, waiting. When Ginny had barely composed herself and was crawling back onto the bed, smothering giggles with her sleeve, he snorted.

"Ah, _here_ she comes, now, trying to help a lad when his neck's almost to the broke spot. Well, hurry up, I haven't got all night," he growled shifting his legs. She crawled to the end of the bed and sat up on her knees, looking down through his legs. Long, masculine, golden-haired legs that started in decent, slender feet and went to the calves, the thighs, the edge of his boxers, and - oh!

She slapped a hand over her eyes, giggling further. He looked up at her through narrowed eyes.

"What? What is it now?" he barked, squirming uncomfortably. She giggled again, pointing.

"What?" he cried, now furious.

"Your - y-your _goodies_, are sort of h-hanging out there, c-champ," she giggled, hiccupping as he scrambled to right himself, flushing from the neck. Once he'd buttoned them back together she uncovered her eyes and helped him up, she fell back onto the bed beneath him. She squirmed below his bulky weight, face reddening as he kissed her full on the lips, tongue gliding against the smooth flesh of her bottom lip until she opened them obediently, jutting her tongue into his mouth. His hands were slithering up her shirt to her bra straps when she jerked away, suddenly.

"Oh no," he groaned. "Not this bullshit again."

She looked at him angrily before she shook her head.

"No. Draco, why did Percy say what he did to you?"

"I dunno. What did he say?"

"Something about telling your father something was ready," she shrugged, looking up into his eyes. The metallic silver glazed and clouded over, his movements becoming shifty as he pulled his weight off of her, pushing her up to the pillows and tucking her beneath the covers. He slipped in beside her, wrapping his arms firmly around her, and resting his head on her shoulder as she rested her hands on his own.

"Haven't got a clue," he lied very convincingly, hugging her tighter. The fire crackled and dimmed down, but she lay wide awake, restless. Finally she rolled over to face him, kissing him awake. He eyed her groggily, taking a deep look at her and closing his eyes, whispering,

"What is it, doll?"

She rested her forehead on his collarbone.

"I can't sleep."

"And?"

" I - I want you to - to sing for me," she whispered. His deep intake of breath calmed her slightly; she loved it when he sang.

__

Last week I had the strangest dream

That everything was exactly how it seemed

Where there was never any mystery

Of who shot John F. Kennedy it was

Just a man with something to prove

Slightly bored and severely confused he

Steadied his rifle with his target in the center

And became famous on that day in November

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

__

Again last night I had that strange dream

Where everything was exactly how it seemed

No concerns about the world getting warmer

People thought that they were just being rewarded

For treating others as they'd like to be treated

obeying stop signs and curing diseases

For mailing letters with the address in the center

Now we can swim any day in November

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Now we can swim any day in November..

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping

Oooh Ooooh ooooooooooooh….

Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in …

He stopped just before the end, feeling the steady, gentle rise and fall of her back as she breathed deeply in her sleep. He ran his hand through her hair, threading an arm beneath hers and hugging her tightly to him.

"I don't know what he's got planned, Ginny, but I promise I won't let him hurt you."

****

Right. Well. It's not my best, but it only took a few days and all. There's two more after this, but I thought I'd space them out some. I've also decided that I'd take my time and finish this one before I pursued the others, seeing as its easier because I've planned out the whole plot of this one, and have only to piece them together easily. There could be some typos that I've overlooked, and as always, I must disclaim that the characters and places and blah blah blah belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros., only the plot and any made-up characters belong to me. Also, this chapter's song does not belong to me. It's called 'Sleeping In' and it's by The Postal Service. If you like soft, soft, SOFT slow rock, try them… they're awesome and I really like them. Anyway, keep your eyes peeled because in a week or so I'll have two more up! And then maybe some more! Keep on lookout and I want to thank ALL OF MY REVIEWERS because you've made my day with your funniness… keep at it!

-Gabrielle

SORRY FOR THE HUGE MISTAKE AT THE END! 'TIS FIXED!


	9. Chapter Nine

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

_

* * *

_

Early the next morning she could barely feel her legs or her head, the warmth was so great. Cold air filtered in through the small crack in the window she'd left open, creeping into the room and sneaking beneath the covers. She cracked an eye and squirmed restlessly, trying to force her feet into warmer spots. Draco, severely irritated at her squirming, cracked an annoyed eye.

"What is it?" he growled, his voice gravelly with sleep. She jerked her head up, startled.

"What?"

"What the hell do you keep moving for?" he muttered, and Ginny flushed, ducking her head.

"It was cold. My feet, I mean. The air - and - my feet were cold," she mumbled, coloring deeply as he looked up at her. Rolling his eyes he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down beside him. She snuggled deep into his chest before she stilled, eyes wide, waiting to drift back to sleep. She wiggled, slightly, again trying to warm her impossibly frozen feet. Quietly and carefully, she pulled her legs up to her chest and wiggled her toes, tucking them gently between his bare thighs. After a moment of stillness, his eyes snapped open and he sat up, jerking backwards.

"Damn, woman! Your feet are _freezing_," he hissed, rubbing his thighs as she tucked her feet beneath body.

"Thanks for the help," she growled, rolling over and getting out of the bed. He sat up, awake and alert, as she reached for her cloak on his desktop.

"Where are you going?" he blurted out, cold feet forgotten. She turned toward him, cloak raised as she shrugged it onto her shoulders. She tilted her head.

"It's - er - still early. I figured - maybe - I should go back before they find I'm gone," she said quietly. Draco shook his head. Then, after realizing he really _couldn't_ stop her, he pouted.

"Don't go. Please don't…" he whined, curling over the bed as he attempted to roll out of it.

"I have to - we have lessons, and - "

"It's Saturday," he interrupted bluntly. Her face fell.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, I still have to pack to go to with you - " she began, heaving a heavy sigh.

"That'll take about 10 minutes, Ginny," he whimpered, clawing at the edge of the bed.

"But still, I have to tell Hermione - "

"It can wait!" he protested eagerly, finally dropping his legs over the side and standing unsteadily to curl his arms around her.

"Please stay," he whined, hugging her tightly. She sighed.

"Why?"

He stayed silent.

"Why?" she repeated, and he groaned.

"Is it a crime to want your presence in my humble abode?"

She snorted.

"Abode? This is your dorm room, Draco," she snickered. His broad shoulders hunched.

"Well, ok, not my abode. But how would you feel consciously knowing that you nullified me for some stupid, pointless errand?"

"Is that calling Hermione stupid and pointless?" she said, narrowing her eyes.

Draco shrugged.

"Would you like me to be truthful?"

"Are you saying you lie to me mostly?"

"Now, doll, you're misinterpreting me," he chirped, stepping back.

"Oh, now are you saying I don't get what you're saying?"

"No, I'm only _saying_ you misinterpreted me, as always," he added beneath his breath. She huffed.

"Oh, so now I misinterpret you all the time."

"I never said that," he growled. He wandered away from her, to his wardrobe, and pulled out some pants and a brown t-shirt that had the words 'The Owl Service' across it in jumbled, parchment colored letters that were bewitched to dance and hum.

"You seem to say that I say a lot of things you never said," she grumbled, summoning a pair of jeans and a small t-shirt from her room. When his back was turned and he was in the bathroom, she changed into the tight hip huggers and the old black t-shirt that read in bright green letters, 'Irish National #1', and had a snitch and the name 'Lynch' flying diagonally around the words slowly. When Draco reappeared, he couldn't help but wince.

"You got that at the Cup few years back, didn't you," he accused. She shrugged and colored.

"Maybe I did," she sniffed. He grinned.

"I remember the Cup. That was the year that old crazy elf cast the Mark with Pothead's wand," he smirked. Ginny scowled.

"It wasn't his fault," she shrugged again. His eyebrow raised.

"I bet," he said sarcastically. Ginny growled.

"How do we know it wasn't you that set her up?"

"Are you calling me a Follower?"

"Maybe I am," she said, quite nervously. His anger turned smug and impassable. She let it drop immediately.

"Ah, well, you never know," he snickered, turning to summon some music. A small piano appeared in the corner, filling the room with gentle, slow music.

"No, no, you damn thing, no! That's not the right song!" he snarled to the piano, grumbling as he adjusted the music. When it was still slightly slow, but still upbeat and fun, he went to adjust the fire.

"What's with the music?" she inquired as he wandered back toward her, nothing else irking to be fixed or adjusted. He stood in front of her, a lingering smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm going to teach you how to waltz," he stated matter-of-factly. A horrified look washed over her face.

"Me? _Waltz?_ What for?" she asked, visibly panicked by the proposition. He grabbed her hands before she could flee, gripping her wrists softly and ducking his head to look into her wide eyes.

"Calm down, calm down. It's for Christmas at the Manor," he said soothingly. The horrific face grew to terrified.

"Why?"

He sighed.

"Every year, Mum has this whole Yule Ball get together thing at the Manor. Most of the dances are waltzes, seeing as she's very traditional. Dress is also very old-timed, but still very elegant. It's really a lovely sight, actually," he murmured, looking back on it. On the inside, he was picturing Ginny in an old-timed ball gown. He grinned roguishly.

"So I have to learn how to _waltz_, before I go out to the Manor?"

"Yes, doll."

She tilted her head and looked up at the clock.

"But it's only - it's only 10 in the morning," she whined.

He shrugged.

"So. It's never too early to dance," he said, shaking his hips convincingly. She laughed, but sighed.

"I don't want to," she whimpered, hands on his chest pushing in a pleading way. He looked down into her beseeching eyes.

"Come on, Gin. Do it for my Mum," he pressed. She growled.

"Alright. Alright, I'll do it. I'll dance, I guess," she muttered, standing reluctantly before him. "But _only_ for your Mum."

He smiled softly.

"Fine. Now, give me your right hand. Now put your left hand on my right shoulder," he instructed calmly, placing his right hand on the bulge of her hip and clasping her right in his left firmly. They squared their feet, and listened in silence for the music to set in.

"Now, it's all in the rhythm, ok? All in the rhythm. You feel it? _One_ two three, _one_ two three. You hear it?"

She relaxed and listened to the music, picking out the triplet timing. She felt him move her, budging her feet gently, murmuring "_One_ two three, _one_ two three, _one_ two three.."

"Yeah, that's good. You're doing wonderfully! I figured it would take you forever," he smirked. She scowled and trod purposely on his toes. He winced, but shifted her weight slightly to push her back into the timing.

She was doing very well, for a person who insisted she never danced. They'd been dancing for so long her feet were beginning to hurt, when the music stopped abruptly, throwing her off balance to trod on his toes once again.

"Damnit," he muttered, shaking the pain from his foot.

"Oops," she said sheepishly, hunching her shoulders and ducking her head. He rolled his eyes.

"It's fine. But, good! We got you waltzing! Mum'll love you, dearest," he grinned. She opened her mouth to retort, when there was a rather loud pecking at the window.

"What's that?" she murmured instead, watching the brown barn owl pecking and beating persistently at the window until she was sure it would crack. Draco fished a few coins from a pair of pants in the hamper, slipped it into the owl's small brown pouch attached to its claw, and took the paper from its beak, sending it back along its way. When the window was shut and the cold was covered, he plopped down onto the bed and unfolded the paper, only to give a great, angry yell and hurl it across the room.

"No way! No fucking way! Merlin, there's no fucking way he can do this to me! _Damnit!_" he yelled, punching the bed hard and panting. He got up, avoiding Ginny's gaze, and hunted out a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, growling to himself as he sat at the table, angrily scribbling to who she assumed was his mother. As she watched, curiosity took hold. She pushed herself off the bed and ducked down beside the table, retrieving the paper from the floor and taking it back with her to the bed.

The great, black, bolded headline immediately caught her eye, making her gasp quietly, observing with a drifting eye the four snapshots of the mentioned prisoners, each snarling unpleasantly to the reader.

DEATH EATER ESCAPE

FOUR PRISONERS GONE

**_Late last night, while Minister Fudge was sleeping fitfully, four Death Eater prisoners in block number D6 escaped from Azkaban's Dementor guarded cells and fled to the country side of London, supposedly to have been reported near Ottery St. Catchpole and were seen climbing Stoatshead Hill at nearly 4 a.m. this morning. People in that half of country have been warned to lock their doors and carefully put away their wands and be on the alert of these three escapees - Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater, who is harboring charges of marital abuse, murder, and misuse of magic, - Antonin Dolohov, Death Eater, harboring charges of murder, a series of criminal records, and misuse of magic, - Rodolphus Lestrange, Death Eater, harboring charges of murder and misuse of magic, - and Rabastian Lestrange, Death Eater, also harboring charges of murder and misuse of magic._**

**_If any of these mentioned prisoners are spotted, please notify the Ministry as soon as possible, otherwise everyone is reminded not to leave wands or any other type of magical paraphernalia lying around._**

She looked up. Draco was standing, now, having sealed and sent his short message to his mother, and was observing her with a furious face. She dropped the paper like fire, clutching her hands together with wide eyes. His own metallic orbs flashed and glinted with fury, fingers clenching and unclenching as one eye strayed to the paper and the other focused solely on Ginny, who was trying hard not to cover her face or hide.

"Well," he snarled, "say it. Go, on, say it."

She looked up at him inquisitively.

"Say what? What are you expecting me to say?"

"You damn well know! Don't play bitch with me, Ginny. Go ahead and fucking say it," he growled.

She shook her head and raised her hands, staring up at him blankly.

"I don't have anything to say!"

"Oh whatever! Just go ahead and laugh or whatever it is you ignorant goody-goodies do when you know you assumed right. My father's a Death Eater, a murderer, and I'm one too. That's what you're thinking right? Right?" he raged.

"I was not going to say that!" she crowed weakly. His face contorted angrily once again.

"Don't play stupid!" he yelled.

"And what if I'm not?" she screamed, jumping up and getting right in his face, fire blazing in her own eyes. She reached out to touch his arm, her hands burning for something soft and cool as the blood pounded in them, her anger fueling her body with white-hot, metallic blood. He jerked his arm away, wincing in pain.

"You're a damn good actor, then!"

"I'm not fucking acting!" she yelled, kicking the paper hard across the room, advertisements and other sections fluttering out and scattering themselves across the room. A hologram suddenly rose up out of one of the advertisements and clasped his hands together. He was young-looking, but balding slightly. In Ginny's opinion, he was annoying.

"Are you having marital problems?" it said.

"Oh, whatever," he snarled, still staring her hard in the eye. She rolled her eyes and raised her hands further, curling her fingers inward to fists of frustration.

"Drug problems?" it continued.

"Jeez, take a fucking chill pill! I don't have anything to say, so just calm the fuck down and stop biting my fucking head off! God!" she screamed as he began to stomp away. He reached the fireplace, muttering to himself as she let out a forced, calming sigh, walking over to him slowly, hand outstretched. There was a sudden beeping and his watch flashed twice, she glimpsed the word 'Duty'...

"Family problems?" it crowed. Ginny stared at Draco hard, muttering, "Someone is."

She had just reached his arm, fingers curled around his forearm as he turned to face her with a sad, regretful look, when the fire flickered. All of a sudden, a pair fleshy arms flew through the flames and latched onto Draco's legs, pulling him forcefully into the fire. Ginny, horrified, grabbed his arm with her own, curling herself around it as she felt dizzying heat, and then bland coolness beneath her, Draco's angry, tired panting pulling her back to open her eyes. All around her, it seemed, circling around the fireplace, were hooded figures. Ginny knew right away, with a pang of terror, they were Death Eaters. And then, in a stone chair behind them, the Dark Lord himself.

* * *

Righto. It might sound a bit like rubbish if you ask me, but I hope you like it alright. Oh, by the way, CLIFF!! MWA HA HA HA HA!!! Sorry, there's no song… I usually put at least one in every chapter but I couldn't think right when I wrote this, and now I can't find anything I know that goes well with this chap…

Well, you know the drill again! This load belongs to J.K. Rowling, not me, and... well, there's no song. God, there's no song! How could I forget? Crap... well... go listen to The Killer's 'Andy, You're A Star'. lol. That'll do, but I don't own it neither. lol.


	10. Chapter Ten

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

_

* * *

_

Ginny rolled over, clinging to Draco as the figures advanced, forming a tight circle around them, forcing them backwards toward the butchering heat of the fire. Draco sat up with a start, giving a low, rumbling growl.

"Good morning," came the cold hiss that sounded distant from behind the Death Eaters. "I see you've been able to make it. With help, of course. A coaxing hand to smooth your boiling troubles."

There was silence. Ginny searched for the familiar voice. Her head swam rather heavily, dizzyingly. The blood in her veins pounded more so, and she could feel the fire behind her eyes, leaping at her eye sockets.

"We watched, do you know? We watched you waltz - very graceful, Draco. A good teacher for a wonderful pupil, I suppose? Ah, well. Perhaps we'll see you later on in your dancing attire, and be entertained. Maybe, perhaps, with a bit of persuading from the Imperious Curse."

Ginny's head nearly snapped as it jerked up into the pale, red-eyed face of the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters parted like a curtain, making way for their master. Ginny instinctively felt drawn to him, drawn to Tom Riddle, by some unspoken connection she hadn't been able to banish in her first year…

"Ah. Ginevra, dearest. Good to see you again. Are you Draco's new interest? How wonderful! It's like two stones with one bird, right, Lucius? Oh, goodness, I've forgotten. Draco, get up and say hello to your daddy," he said in a sugary sick voice. Ginny's head swooned, and the figure before her seemed to change slightly, to shift… and then she saw Tom all over again, his boyish grin beaming down on her, his roguish charm forcing her up from the floor to go to him…

"Ginny, no! Don't go near him!" Draco cried, struggling to stand before the tight ring of followers. But as he stood Ginny was already by his side, standing happily beside him, while the Death Eaters snickered behind their hoods.

"You hear me, Draco? Say hello to your daddy," Voldemort commanded. Draco didn't budge. He stared into the red slit eyes and couldn't help but snarl, hatred boiling coldly in his veins.

"I said say _hello_," he hissed, and Draco felt his legs moving, he felt his lips turning, until he was wearing an ugly smile and standing in front of a very distinctly familiar figure, whose dark eyes held hatred just as well as amusement. His legs crumpled unwillingly and he felt himself on his knees, head bent over, touching the floor just before his father's feet.

"That's a good boy," Voldemort chided in amusement. Finally, the pressure was lifted and Draco hurled himself back from his father's form, stumbling to his feet until he was standing directly in the middle of the ring.

"What's the meaning of this? Why are we here?" he demanded, shaking from head to foot with rage and fear.

The Dark Lord chuckled, a sickening sound in the uneasy silence.

"It seems there is an article, on the front page of today's _Daily Prophet_. Something along the lines of Death Eaters escaping Azkaban? We, of course, recognized those faces, and called upon reliable relations to help us hide my followers. We wouldn't like to be spoiled, would we?" he inquired to the whole crowd.

There were indistinct murmurs of, "No, Master." "That wouldn't be right, Master." "We wouldn't like to go back to Azkaban, Master." Such murmurs made Draco's stomach twist. Voldemort gave an ugly grin.

"See? That wouldn't be fun for my Death Eaters. It certainly wouldn't be any bunch of posies if I was thwarted again by something such as prison. No, which is why we had to retrieve you, Draco. We had to make sure you would keep your _promise_," he hissed, and watched in delight as Draco bent over backwards and fell to the floor, his body giving a very sickening _crack_ as he screamed in pain. Ginny's eyes flashed from their dreamy milkiness to sudden brown, horror flashing through them as she stumbled forward, kneeling beside his panting body. He shook his head wildly, thrashing his legs until his bare feet connected with the cold stone floor, allowing him to pull himself up by scooting forward. His hands reached back, painfully, and touched his spine, emitting a sigh of relief as he realized nothing was cracked or broken. She helped him stand up, and clung to his arm in fear.

"Don't hurt him like I bet you hurt my parents!" she heard herself crow weakly. A sick laugh replied.

"We didn't _touch_ your parents, silly girl. Just a little agreement, a bridge across our burning waters. No, I didn't break dear old mum and dad like I've broken many others."

He flipped his wand. Draco curled backwards, toes touching floor as his the crown of his head balanced dangerously on the stones. He fell once again, and Ginny brushed her hand across his forehead, whimpering. He nodded, taking deep ragged breaths.

"Perhaps that was persuasion enough? I need your word for this, Draco. Your father holds you very highly, and it would be a shame to stain his created reputation for you, as well as his family's name."

Ginny said nothing. She was whimpering again, the feeling of warmth leaving her body almost at once as she stared up in horrific fear at the white faced figure that stared down at her. He stepped forward, a long-nailed hand reaching from his long black sleeves up to her face. She shut her eyes, forcefully willing herself to remain calm as his fingers slowly caressed her cheek, dragging his nails down from her cheekbone to her chin where he grabbed it subtly, turning her head gently from side to side.

"She's beautiful, is she not?" he hissed in a question, the warmth of his breath pooling at her neck. She repressed a shudder and whimpered yet again, her legs trembling as she willed herself to remain silent and strong. The ring around them nodded and murmured their approval, before Voldemort called forward one faithful follower.

"Lucius. Step forward, please?" he muttered, his other hand beckoning. Ginny closed her hand and stiffened her spine, refusing to appear weak.

"What is your thought on the appearance of this girl?" he murmured, brushing her cheek again. Lucius's snarl was hard repressed.

"Seeing as she is from a loathsome family, she does not seem very appalling. Very nice body, sharp tongue, strong attitude. Her rags can be changed. She's very strong, full of rebellion, seductive too, just like her mother," he leered. Ginny's stomach turned nauseous. Her eyes sprang open and she glared hard at Lucius, her hate burning through her eyes. He smirked.

"I'd like to see them dance now," Voldemort hissed, pleasure flickering in his eyes.

"Dance, Master?" Lucius inquired, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Yes, dance. I'd like to watch, seeing as I cannot," he shrugged. "Also, I'm feeling for amusement. Nothing soothing like a little show. An appetizer for what comes later, I suppose. Just to see the way her body works."

Lucius straightened his head, lingering doubt flickering across his face.

"Yes, Master."

"And change their clothes from those lazy old things. They're disgusting."

"As you wish, Master," he murmured, flicking his wand. Ginny was no longer in her jeans and shirt but instead a black dress that strapped around her neck, the back scooping low across her midriff just above her butt, a blood red silk sash tied beautifully around her waist, bowed in the back. Black high-heels with flecks of red elevated her some, red hair in ringlets that framed her face beautifully. She was suddenly, forcefully turned to face Draco, who was dressed in a coal-black tuxedo, with a blood red cummerbund, hands held high and fear in his eyes. She placed her hand gently in his and was forced to place her hand on his shoulder, feeling slightly panicked as he placed his hand on her waist and her feet were painfully squared. She looked up into his face. It held a worry she was afraid to confront.

Forgive me if now I wear the face of worry

This time alone could never cause any doubt

But I've been cold too long

Such a strange time to find myself coming down as the rain

With all these holes my love,

To fill up from the middle

This storm could stay all night now

---

So can you stay until we close our eyes

Til your dreams hold mine

Just stay until we know we tried one more time

"Dolohov, music," he ordered. Antonin quickly obliged, summoning a small orchestra and bewitching it to play another waltz, similar to the one that she'd heard just previously. She could hear0 Draco muttering beneath his breath, and looked up into his eyes to see them reading _one_ two three, _one _two three, _one_ two three… She stepped as he did, circling the area, eyes closed and stomach boiling in fear… moments passed. 10, then 20. The hourglass in the corner emptied at the top. A half hour…

Cause laughing lovers can overcome their closest demons

And they'll go on and they won't let go

They saw something that they know

Has never come so close

Can it stay here for us, for now?

Can it stay until we know ourselves?

I'm torn as I tell

You're the story that I know and fell from

I'm so far into your story I don't know why

We think we're in control

When we lie between the lines

"That will do for Narcissa's party, won't it? Yes, it will have to. Now, Draco, I have a proposition for you and your little doll."

The Dark Lord beckoned to Draco who reluctantly let go of Ginny's hand and followed to a corner, where he lowered his voice. He whispered and murmured coldly and Draco's eyes widened and narrowed at some points, but a look of faint horror enveloped him. He was then lead, painfully and struggling by the Imperious Curse, to the fireplace, where he was forced back in. Ginny stood, alone, in the ring of Death Eaters, trembling from head to toe. Voldemort turned to face her, nothing short of maliciousness in his eyes. Despite herself, she cowered.

We'll find a line to follow

It's got to show real soon

Or we'll never reach this high

We climb a little further

----

Cause there's nothing we can't get around together

Further gets colder until nothing was all that I saw around

So we stay until the ground

That we can't come down from splits us away

Maybe stars know why we fall

I just wish they were thinking out loud

Oh, I could wish all night

"Your Draco had to go back through the fire. Lovely lad, isn't he? Quite trustworthy, always follows orders. Now, he knows quite as well as I do, that he's going to die beneath my hand very soon for his ruthless disobedience. Unless, of course, you do as I say, dearest. We have several propositions for you. You are an Element. Yes, it sounds corny, I know. But it's very true, and very rare to the Wizarding world. You have the power of seduction and fire, as that is what you are, but nothing you can do at will. It's all in your blood, nothing you can use. There is a weapon, you see. But we need two Elements of different kind to put this weapon into action. The Element of Fire, from a lady. And the Element of Love, in whom you probably haven't a clue. I shall give you a hint, though, dearest. A small hint. _I hate him,"_ he roared, and Ginny jumped back, the fire licking at her skirts. He adjusted himself. She trembled still, feeling the heat on her thighs, boiling her blood.

So we stay until the ground

That we can't come down from splits us away

Maybe stars know why we fall

I just wish they were thinking out loud

Oh, I could wish all night

"Now. There has to be a way these two Elements can be combined. And there is. There is a way by mixing body. Mixing traits. There is a way by a child, you see, a genial mixture of both."

It wasn't making sense. She couldn't figure it out - who was the other? What did he mean, by child? The thought hit her like bricks. **_She had to have a child._**

"Ah, I knew you would figure it out. Now you only have to know whom. You will find out in time, I fear. At the end of nine months, if you are not with child, you and Draco alike will die. But if by chance you are with child, your baby will be taken and sacrificed, and you will be branded by myself as a follower and servant. You could rule, Ginny. If at any time you try to escape your burden by any means, you will be captured and held inconspicuously in an unknown chamber somewhere in London. I trust, for how you feel about young Malfoy, you will not disobey. Remember, Ginny, we are watching you."

Then there were hands on her arms and sudden cackling as she was thrown back into the fire, landing in a small, trembling heap at the foot of Draco's bed. Before she fainted, she could still hear the malicious laughter resounding in her head.

* * *

"Ginny?"

A child? She couldn't have a child. Hell, why did everything always have to happen to her? Damnit to hell! Damnit damnit damnit!

"Ginny, wake up," came the persistent murmur. She fluttered her eyes but couldn't see through them as the tears welled up and spilled over the edge.

"There, there," Draco cooed, sliding onto the floor next to her and wrapping shaky arms around her. "We'll make it through."

She shook her head ferociously.

"Damn him!" she cried, slamming her hands down hard on the floor. Draco grabbed her wrists and turned her to face him, her curls still fluttering with rage and fear.

"What did he say to you, Ginny? What did he say? Am I going to die?"

She looked up at him, with new realization.

"Draco, do you have an Element?"

He stared down at her in disbelief.

"What?"

"An Element. You know, something, er, something inside you, that's, er, giving you powers. An Element."

He stared at her strangely, before he sighed.

"Yes."

She was anxious to know. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as bad?

"Which one?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Just tell me!" she snapped.

He ruffled his platinum blond hair.

"Ice," he shrugged. Ginny squealed in rage.

"Damn!"

He shook his head at her unusual behavior.

"Ginny, what does that have to do with me dying?"

She looked up at him, and felt the tears sting in her eyes again.

"I have to have a baby, Draco," she wailed. "In nine months if I don't have a child by the Element of Love, we'll both be killed."

"B-both of us? A child? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

She shook her head at the peculiar proposition.

"A weapon. I don't know, that's what he said. He had to have both Elements, and if I didn't have a baby we'd both die. He told me if I attempt to run, I'll be captured and punished."

Her trembling increased.

"I don't want to do it, Draco. I don't want to die, I don't want to have a baby. I just don't," she whimpered, pressing her face into his white shirt, curls sticking to her face.

"Did he say - did he say who the other was? Who the other Element was?"

Ginny shook her head, resting her temple on his shoulder.

"He only said he hated him, but I couldn't figure that out! I mean, Voldemort hates a lot of people, doesn't he?"

Draco groaned.

"He said he hates him? Damn. How could he do that? How could he?" Draco cried, squeezing her tight to his chest. She pushed herself away and stared up at him.

"You know who it is? You know who it's supposed to be?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Who? Who is it? Tell me, Draco!" she snapped, tears streaming from her eyes again.

"Ginny…" he sighed.

"Tell me, Draco! This isn't a game, and if you think it is, it isn't funny!" she screamed in rage.

"Ginny - I - it's - it's Potter."

"What?"

"Potter's the Element. Harry Potter."

* * *

And so ends another chapter! Well, I think I'm getting better at this! LoL

HAHAHA!!!! CLIFFFFFF!!!

As always, I disclaim. Harry Potter belongs to the All-Powerful J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Inc., and this chapter's song is called... what's it called? It's called the Thousand Mile Wish, by Finger Eleven. It's a good song. So's that song by Howie Day... oops! Can't give away me secrets! AHA! Find me Lucky Charms! Hearts, stars, and horseshoes! Clovers and blue moons!pots of gold and rainbows, and me red balloons!bahahahahahahahaha! God, that doesn't belong to me either.

As always, Iwanna thanks me reviewers because you guys r awesome!keep up the goodness!


	11. Chapter Eleven

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

I'd like to thank Tarra (tar-ra)- little-munchkin-poo, blissful sin, Eve Granger, JADECOWAN, Nickel, and everybody else who reviews this fic almost every time I update. Without you guys I wouldn't get off my lazy ass and type, nor would I get better, which I have been… I hope you guys enjoy this fic!

And no, you guys, Draco and Ginny haven't 'screwed' yet. And they were a couple from practically the beginning of the story, you just couldn't fully see it yet. But Ginny's still as virgin as a virgin gets. Hehe.

* * *

He was in the shower when she woke up. Had she fallen asleep? Sheesh. A single thought ran through her head. She jotted something down, fast, and pulled on some different clothes, tossed the dress over a chair, pushed her feet into a pair of shoes and slipped out the door. She didn't know what she was doing, right then. She'd seen him around, seen him by Draco, seen him talking, talking, always to the Slytherins. And as she pushed her way into the Common Room and let her eyes sweep the comfy little space, her eyes found him. Raven black hair, ice blue eyes, alabaster skin. Blaise Zabini. She could trust him.

"Well, well, well. Hey, Red. What's got your knickers in a twist?" he smirked, his boyish glow overwhelming her. _Tell, Tell. It's Draco's life._

"Blaise, you're Draco's best friend. Right?" she began, slightly uneasy.

He nodded, eyes scanning the room.

"Err… yep. Why?"

"You know about his Father and his childhood and all that rot, right?"

He straightened.

"First of all, it's not 'rot'. And second, yes, I do. And I assume he's entrusted you with that information as well?"

She nodded. He stared up at her, felt the fear radiate from her eyes.

"Let's find somewhere private," he murmured, standing and taking her hand loosely.

She followed him up to what she assumed was his room. Once there, he sat her on the bed, occupying himself by getting drinks as he wondered what she was doing here.

"So you've fallen in love with the prat?" he guessed, handing her a glass of butter beer. Her head snapped as she stared up at him. He shrugged.

"I'm good at this type of thing. I knew before it even happened you would be."

She shivered.

"Something horrible will happen, Blaise."

His eyebrows puckered.

"Is that right?"

She stared up at him, eyes clouded.

"He's in trouble. I'm in trouble. But he's gotten us both dug in, and I'm afraid it's a hopeless case to get us out again."

"Oh, come on. Will it really be that bad?"

She looked up at him again. He sat down beside her, sipping his drink.

"Alright, so maybe it will be that bad. Why don't you tell me what's going on?" he coaxed. Ginny held her glass tightly, clutching it hard into her hands. It was like she could see Draco's reflection, his stricken, weary face as he watched her sleep. She knew she had to tell. Someone else had to know. Just in case.

"I saw him, Blaise. I saw him again."

"Who? You saw who?" he asked, confused.

She looked over at him again.

"Voldemort. We saw him last night. He's going to kill Draco," she murmured. The drink he held sputtered from his mouth.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Draco, killed? By Voldemort? God, you sound like Potter, 'cept less joyous about it."

She didn't reply.

"Is there more?" he asked quietly. She nodded.

"There's a way around it."

"You got lucky, then."

"As if you could call it that," she muttered. He shrugged and pressed her on.

"So what's the way?"

She sighed.

"I'll have to have a baby, in nine months. By Harry Potter. Then I'll have to give it up, to Voldemort, so he can use it as some stupid weapon."

Blaise nodded.

"Aye, the weapon. I've heard 'bout it from me Father. It's supposed to have some effect on Muggle borns. I don't know if he's going for total abomination, but it sure sounds like something of the sort."

"That sounds really dangerous, not to mention scary. I know a lot of good people who're Muggle born."

He nodded again. There was silence.

"So that's all?"

She shrugged.

"I'm leaving soon, though. And it's just weird. It's like I have to get pregnant right away, and if I don't, Draco and I will die. I would never be able to bear the guilt of that. Even in the after life."

"The guilt of what?"

"The guilt of letting Draco down. Of letting him die. It would tear me apart," she finished softly. He looked down at her, eyes warm around the edges.

"Aye, so you love him then?"

Ginny nodded slowly, then it quickened the harder she thought about it.

"I do, as much as I try to tell myself I don't. I really do."

"You really do care about him, and I respect that. I assume, that since you love him, you'll be there for Christmas, right?"

"Yes, I will," she sighed.

"And for the Yule Ball, right?"

"Yep."

"Right, then. I might be able to help you out, here and there."

She looked up at him.

"How?"

He shrugged, then looked down at her, and forced a tiny smile.

"He's my best friend, and I know you're special to him, even if he has trouble admitting. And I honestly, don't want either of you to die, especially that way. But if it's what you have to do to keep you both alive, I'll be here to guide you along the way, Ginny. I'm now, permanently adopting you, sheltering you beneath my wing."

Ginny looked up at him and couldn't help but smile. He smiled back. And then she frowned.

"But how do I know this isn't some type of ploy to - "

"Sweets, I don't reach for your end of the table," he interrupted smugly.

"Beg your pardon?" she asked, looking up at him. He sighed, but laughed, closing his eyes.

"I don't bat for your side, dearest."

"So you're - "

" - gay, yes, I know."

There was more silence. He laughed again, and she gave a meek, squeaky laugh. He patted her shoulder, looking at the clock.

"You should go pack, Red. We're leaving by nightfall, you know."

She ducked her head and tilted it to the side.

"Have you even begun to pack?"

She grinned sheepishly.

"Nope."

"You'd better get crackin'! And you know where to find me," he said, winking as he led her to the door.

"Thank you, Blaise."

"You're so welcome, Gin," he said, reaching out and patting her shoulder slightly. She laughed and turned to walk back down the hall. As she went, he knew she'd be as big of a help to Draco as burden to his life.

* * *

There was a tiny peck at the door. He nearly jumped at the sound erupting the silence of his room, but growled quietly.

"Come in," he called roughly, leaning back to check his trunk. The door squealed gently as the person approached, the clicking gentle as it swung shut. A small hand swept over his shoulder, soft fingers curling around his neck. He turned, hands curling around soft skin at the nape of another neck, only to jump back into his skin as he stared into icy eyes.

"Blaise!" he cried, bumping into his trunk and sending a pair of khaki slacks sliding into the floor. Blaise cackled.

"Thought I was the redhead, didn't you," he snickered. Draco growled deep in his throat again.

"You scared the shit out of me."

"Your face scares the shit out of me."

"Shut your own before I shut it for you."

"Tut tut, wouldn't want to ruin your Christmas without me."

"Ah, yes, it would make Mother upset."

"Yes, think of the parentals." He rolled his eyes and snuggled himself into an armchair, resting his feet on the coffee table before him. Draco turned from him and picked up the slacks, tossing them gently back into his overflowing trunk. Blaise tilted his chin toward it.

"Over packed much?"

He gave a low huff in reply.

"Come on, Draco. Don't be so rough 'round the edges. I didn't come here to socialize, you know. You shouldn't think that everyone who enters to converse with you is going to steal something from you. Besides, you aren't fooling me for shit. I've known you too long for that."

Draco shrugged. Then, snapping his trunk gently, he turned.

"So what are you here for, Blaise?"

"What, can I not come see you wiggle your ass around in private? Or do I have to pay to see it in public?"

Draco snorted.

"The only time you'll ever see my ass 'wiggle' is when you're lying on the ground peering up through two black eyes while I walk away."

"Ouch. You wound me," he replied, sniffling.

"I bet. So, tell me. What's your reason? Nobody like you suddenly gets friendly. Haven't you some helpless Gryffindor to shag? Like that Colin Creevey kid?"

Blaise's eyes darkened slightly, lusting over. Draco had the caution to step back, shifting his trunk slightly to shield himself.

"Colin's off packing to leave too."

"Oh, right. My mistake. Are you seeing him over Christmas?"

Blaise's cheeks rouged.

"That's none of your business. Your business is that Ginny came to have a word with me."

"Did she?"

He nodded. Draco reemerged from behind his trunk, and occupied the seat across from him, reaching forward to grab a mug of coffee from the earlier parts of morning.

"What did she say?"

Now he shrugged. Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"Tell me, Blaise."

He lifted one shoulder.

"She came to fill me in."

"Fill you in about what?"

"I would've known had you came and told me."

"I haven't really had much to tell, nonetheless any time to tell anyone anything."

"Ah, I'll believe you there. As I've heard it, it only happened last night."

Draco looked up.

"She told you about that?"

"By the looks of it, she had to tell someone."

"And that someone just had to be you," he groaned. Blaise shrugged.

"She can trust me. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean shit. Both you and I know I'm trustworthy as hell; it's in my bloodline to do so."

Draco nodded.

"So it is. What did she tell you?"

"That she has to have a baby by Potter, and that she's scared of Voldemort and all this stuff," he said, purposely neglecting to tell him the other things she'd said. But Draco knew better than that. Blaise was being too happy, and the conversation was in shallow waters. He eyed him uneasily.

"What else did she say?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what else did she tell you that _you're_ not telling _me_."

"What makes you think that?"

"I know you, Blaise. So tell me."

Blaise gave him a side glance, turning his head to stare at the fire. It licked the top of the mantle, barely, it's tongues leaping out to graze the brick and marble. He chewed his cheek nervously. Draco cleared his throat.

"She said she has to do what he told her. She said she couldn't bear the guilt of knowing she let you down. She said that as much as she tries to convince herself that she doesn't, she really loves you."

Draco gave him a heavy glare.

"Come on. What'd she really say?"

Blaise looked at him angrily. He'd been expecting this. Draco didn't know feelings.

"She really said that?"

"Of course she did," he said, rolling his eyes. "Because she knows you love her."

Draco went rigid.

"Don't tell me that!" he snapped angrily, fists clenching. Blaise sat back against the chair, eyes narrowing. He wasn't about to smile. Not when his best friend was being a complete and total jackass.

"Don't tell you what? That you really do feel? That you really _do_ know love? You need to get over it. Grow up," he snorted.

Draco shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I don't know love. I'm not supposed to and I won't, because emotions tear a person _down_ Blaise. _Emotion_… it eats you up," he whispered. Blaise shook his head tilting it to the side.

"But you do feel. And you do know emotion. And you _do_ know love."

"I do not. And I won't."

"Ah, but you already do. God, Draco, get a hold of yourself! You already know it and you know that you _like_ it."

"I don't know it, and I hate it. Shut up, would you? And even if I did know it, how would I?"

Blaise sniffed arrogantly, ignoring him.

"You know love in _Ginny."_

"What?"

"You keep saying you don't know love, but you do. You know it in Ginny. You know Ginny and you're fine with her, you tolerate her. You keep saying you don't know what love is, when you've known all along and been alright with it. You think I'm not making sense, but I am. Ginny is love. And you like it because you like her."

"How do you know how I feel about Ginny?"

"I know you, Draco. And I heard you say it, once. Granger was in the hallway, and you said, 'I think I'm in love with you,' or something, and Granger said 'You do?' and you said 'Yes, Granger, I really do love her' or something. I saw," he explained breathlessly. Draco sat back in his chair, staring.

"How could you've seen that? It was only us three."

Blaise shook his head and almost laughed.

"She ran past me. Ginny, I mean. She bumped into me and I, believe it or not, was coming back from the library after I met with Colin, and I had some books I had to take to McGonagall, and she hit me and I said, 'God woman, watch where the fuck you're going!'. You ran right past me without even knowing, and Granger passed me and asked which way she went and I pointed her in that direction," he said smugly. Draco scowled.

"So you knew all along and you never even mentioned it to anyone."

Blaise nodded.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

"For the same reason nobody knows I'm gay."

Draco nodded.

"So, we're keeping secrets for each other, hmm."

"Yup. But if I were you, I'd go see Ginny. She hasn't packed at all, and when I saw her she was in a right state. But, that's just me," he said with another shrug.

Draco nodded.

* * *

"Having fun?" came the robust drawl from the door, echoing into the room and through the empty bathroom. Ginny slowly looked up, brushing stray tears from her face. A picture of her parents lie in her lap, her fingers absently tracing their memorized features.

She shook her head and dropped the picture beside her, her hands gripping the cover softly.

"What's the matter? What's so bad that could keep you from packing for the best holiday ever?" he said, his voice rising temptingly.

She stared up at him pointedly, and he stared at her trunk. A few skirts lay folded at the bottom, some hygienic items, a hairbrush and two rolled up pairs of stockings. He used his toe to push it aside, plopping down on the side opposite the portrait's, brushing her back gently with his fingers.

Her voice cracked when she spoke.

"It's just that it's so freaky, Draco. All of a sudden, as soon as I figure out I'm trusting you and actually letting myself fall with you, everything crumbles away. I have to have a child, if not to give it up, for our lives. I'm only _16."_

He nodded as she took a breath, plowing on.

"I don't even know what my parents will say when they find out. My mum always said that if I ever did something stupid like this, I'd be out like that," she said, snapping her fingers. He draped his arm around her shoulder carefully.

"I'm sorry. I got you into this, and if I could I'd get you out. It must really suck for you, but it'll suck for both of us if you don't. Plus, I'm really grateful that you took this stand to save me."

She looked up to find him staring at her. Then she began to cry again, the tears falling so hard it was like rain.

"I don't want to die! I don't want _you_ to die! It would hurt so bad; you're the only person that actually knows where I'm coming from and what I'm talking about. I can't let you die!"

She nuzzled her face in his neck, her sobs muffled. He rubbed her back, gently, dragging his fingers up her spine.

"Shh, it's alright. It'll be alright, alright? Let's just pack, and we'll take a walk before we leave, okay? Let's just pack first."

She nodded weakly and stood up, taking the picture and snuggling it between two skirts. Taking her wand she pulled out a few pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, a few sweaters, a pair of shoes, and other things. One by one they arranged themselves inside the trunk, neatly fitting together until it snapped quietly and strapped itself together, standing on the red carpet like a vessel resting on the red sea.

Don't hold on

Go get strong

Well, don't you know

That there is no

Modern romance

He touched her arm and pulled her gently off the bed, flipping his wand at her. At once she was wearing a pair of low riding jeans and a tight t-shirt, a denim jacket pulled across herself. She hooked her hand idly into the crook of his arm, sniffling. He patted her hand. She attempted a smile.

Time

Time is gone

It stops, stops who it wants

Well, I was wrong

It never lasts

And there is no

Well, this is no

Modern romance

The doors opened to reveal snow, falling heavily around them. Ginny reached out a hand and caught a snowflake, awatery grin gracing her lips. Draco turned his head and looked across the hall; the doors on the opposite side were opened to reveal the road that their ride to Kings Cross would arrive at. It was empty. He sighed.

And time

Time is gone

It never lasts

Stops who it wants

Well, I was wrong

It never lasts

This is no

There is no

Modern romance

There is no modern romance

This is no...modern romance there is no, there is no...

"You don't have to talk."

"Good."

"Because there's not really a lot I want to know."

"Fine."

"So don't feel pressured into telling me anything."

"Alright."

There was a bit of quiet. They walked silently down the stairs and into the Northern Courtyard, cutting through it. Ginny made them stop at the fountain while she fished out a sickle, flipping it haphazardly into the freezing water where it landed with a tiny 'plop'. He watched as she closed her eyes and made her wish, her lips moving silently as she did so. Then she grabbed his hand delicately in hers and they continued to walk, their feet leaving marks in the snow. They were just passing the hedges in the garden when Ginny cleared her throat.

"So Blaise told you I talked to him, didn't he," she said pointedly. He gave a grim smile.

"Yep."

"And I suppose he told you everything that I told him."

"Mostly," he answered, lifting one shoulder and not meeting her eye.

"And Blaise wouldn't lie to you."

"Ah, the _real_ question is, would you lie to Blaise?"

She blushed and turned away.

"Of course not. I wouldn't lie to anybody."

"Really," he said, plainly not believing her.

"Yes, really. I wouldn't."

"You promise?"

"I promise. I would not lie to anyone."

"I'm going to keep your word on that."

"Well you do that, if it makes your pompous ass content."

"Well maybe it does."

"Well, that's fine. I don't care."

They walked in silence for a few minutes. He kept side-glancing at Ginny, just to make sure she was ok. She was taking all this so badly… but then again, she _did_ have to have a baby…

"So - "

"Draco, I don't think I can do this," she interrupted loudly, her face swelling as tears poured from her already-puffy eyes. "I just don't think I can handle it."

He looked at her stupidly.

"What?"

She sat down on a bench in the yard, the frozen lake glistening before them and stared out at it with leaking eyes.

"I don't know. The way my mum always talked about it - how much it hurts, how hard it is - it's so dangerous, and my father always used to make fun of us because he was a man and didn't _have_ to have children… God, I'm freaking out - I don't know if I'll make it to get pregnant and have a baby."

This all came out in a rush of words that was so fast he thought he'd misheard her. He knelt before her, taking her hands. Her face was red and puffy, her lips wobbling and cracked.

"No, no, no. Listen to me. Are you listening to me? You're not listening to me," he said in a sing-song voice.

She turned her head to face him, her eyes pouring tears.

"You're strong, Ginny. I know you are. You remember when I was in fourth year and you fell off your broom around the second story of Ravenclaw tower because that git Neville accidentally jinxed you? You got up and walked away from that, not even wailing or making a big deal. You hadto've at _least_ had abroken leg, and you walked right back into the school. That's strong, and painful. You lived through that; you can live through child birthing."

She smiled delicately.

"I used a numbing spell."

"Bollocks. You used guts. Besides, you're ruining my point."

"The one at the top of your head?"_ (A/N: dunce cap, folks... piece it together)_

"What? No, the one I'm trying to - hey, that's not cool."

She let out a gurgled giggle and shook her head. He scoffed.

"Come on, Ginny. You're tough, and I know you know it."

She sniffled again. He grabbed her chin, gently, turning her head to face him.

"Agree with me. You're tough - you can do this. I can help you. Blaise can help you. Doctors can help you. You can do this. We can do this."

She looked at him and smiled, nodding.

"Alright, then. Let's get up and go back 'round the castle."

He helped her stand up, and she began to brush herself off, finally groaning.

"What?" he said, inquiring her loud noise. Her lips rumpled and she huffed loudly, turning around.

"When I sat on that damn bench, I sat in snow. It was cold. It melted. I got fucking water on my fucking pants," she wailed. He laughed and grabbed her arm, and walked her along the grass. Halfway along the yard she tripped and fell on her knees, the dirt below the snow muddying up her knees. She howled loudly, wailing again. There were animal noises coming from the front drive, noises mingled and answering her howls. He helped her up from the ground and let her brush herself off angrily, still sniffling gently as she wiped her very red nose.

"Oh, I'm a mess," she said, very sullenly, motioning to her face and then the wet splotches on her jeans.

He walked toward her, smirking slightly.

"Don't worry, Ginny. My mother'll love you, no matter what you look like. You're beautiful."

"You're lying," she said flatly. He chuckled.

"If you say so."

"Well I do. And I also say that I look like a wreck, even though you insist upon saying I'm 'beautiful'. You're definitely lying."

He chucked her playfully in the arm, wrapping it around her shoulders as he slowly budged her forward until she was walking at a snail-like pace. Halfway there, she stopped again.

"What will we tell your mother?" she said, suddenly panicking. He sighed and pulled her forward again, and shrugged.

"We won't."

She looked back up at him.

"What?"

He turned his head to look at her, then directed his vision back to the pathway.

"We just won't tell her. I hate stressing my mother out, and I don't want to add to her trouble now that my Father is loose and on the run. She likes you, and I just want to make her happy, especially for Christmas."

"But it's still about a month until Christmas," she pointed out, pressing herself against his side for warmth.

"True. But I just want to cheer her up, some."

She nodded in agreement.

"Right. So we're not going to tell anyone?" she clarified.

"Right. Wouldn't want your brother becoming more of a twat than he already is."

She laughed.

"I don't know; I think that'd be hard."

He snorted, loudly.

"Ah, no, he seems to outdo himself every time, I tell you."

"Now, now, be nice to Ron - it wouldn't do any good to me to save your life if you're already dead," she clucked. They rounded some hedges and stepped onto the cobblestone walk, cutting around the fountain and entering the Northern Courtyard again, the benches growling gently as they shook the layering snow off of them. There was a low, long whistle that echoed through the empty space, filling her ears. They stopped, suddenly, and Draco answered back with the same whistle, the sound dizzying her as it swirled around her and she felt herself swoon, slightly, as if she was drowsy. Draco reached for her hand again and squeezed it tightly, the cold touch jerking her back awake.

"Come on, they're here," he announced in a low, manly rumble. She yawned.

"They're here? Already? Won't I get to say goodbye to my brother?" she asked, panicking again. He chuckled.

"He'll be at the doors, don't worry. Wouldn't want you to leave without saying goodbye to brother dearest. Wasn't he the one who gave you that awful gash across your head?" he reminded her angrily.

She turned her head to face away.

"I just have to get him to pass on a message to my brothers. I forgot to owl them and all, so I figured something's better than nothing."

"How're you going to make him remember?"

She shrugged and grinned roguishly.

"Memory charm. He'll remember; he'll also remember that if he doesn't pass it on, he'll relive all the horrible things I've done to him over the years."

He shuddered and smirked.

"You wicked, wicked girl. Almost makes me feel remorse for the bloke."

She looked up at him in shock. He glared back down at her.

"I said 'almost'."

She giggled and they stepped out into the hall, staring down the opposite steps at the carriage that was to send them off. It was one of the school's carriages, the thestrals coated in deep red instead of their usual black. They stamped their hooves impatiently, eyes rolling around as the steam that issued from their mouths clouded around their heads.

"So these'll take us to King's Cross?" she asked, still surveying. He shrugged.

"It's not like it's a long ride or anything. Just a couple minutes. I'm assuming Blaise is already out here. Oh, look, there he is. Standing by your brother."

"Where?" she asked, turning in the direction he nodded. He rolled his eyes and pointed over her shoulder.

"_There_. See, beside those people putting up the trunks? See the one in the black? That's Blaise."

She watched as they loaded the racks, house elves scurrying to strap them onto the tops. Blaise stood near the back of a carriage, chatting carelessly with Ron, who seemed very interested in him. Once or twice she caught Blaise giving him a lustful - _was_ it lustful- glance, the heat smoldering in his eyes. Draco grabbed her hand and they descended the few stairs, walking over slowly as the ground turned to slush before their eyes.

"'Ain't safe fer the roads if they got snow's on 'em," a wizard with patched robes and a worn-looking hat said. Hagrid hobbled precariously over, beady black eyes sweeping over the five of them.

"This here's Nuncy. He's ter drive yer out ter the Cross. Ever'body else's already gone," he informed them. Ginny gave a forced smile and nodded to him.

"How do you do?" she said politely, struggling to keep her smile on her face. The man gave her a heated gaze, eyes sweeping wantonly over her body. Draco cleared his throat and watched in hidden amusement as the man's neck barely snapped as he looked up at him. He shook his head stiffly, and the man backed down slowly.

"Yes, hello," he regarded coldly, before gently taking Ginny's arm and leading her away. She scoffed in disgust and clung to it as he led them over to where Blaise and Ron were standing.

"Hey," Blaise said, smiling warmly at Ginny and smirking at Draco. Ron tore his gaze away from Blaise to glare distastefully at Draco, before settling his fidgety sister with a sheepish smile and nod. She sniffed and turned her attention back to Blaise, who took this exchange in with interest.

"Hey, Blaise," she said cheerfully, her eyes twinkling.

"Ah, somebody's cheered up some. Hey, Gin. Draco."

He nodded at Draco who grinned back, still holding onto Ginny. Ron sat on the outskirts of the three of them, his eyes gaining a glassy look as he wobbled, back and forth, on the balls of his feet. Draco's eyebrows puckered deeply - what the hell- before he looked down and saw Ginny's mouth moving silently, her eyes boring into his. He elbowed her in the ribs as the redheaded boy began to whimper, very quietly, and his bottom lip began to tremble. She stopped and ducked her head, lip shoved out as she pouted.

"All righ' ov'r here?" Hagrid bellowed happily as he advanced upon the group. Ron grinned weakly and Ginny lifted the corner of her mouth, shrugging a shoulder. Blaise and Draco just looked up at him, glaring.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Draco said, his voice more civil. Hagrid glared backdown at him, and nodded.

"Aye, he's ready ter go. Just load up the carriage, and you'll be off," he said.

"Right," Blaise said cheerily, turning his gaze to Ginny and Draco. "Well. You heard him! Let's go!"

Ron turned to Ginny as she began to walk with Draco, reaching out and grasping her sleeve gently.

"Ginny - " he began quietly.

"Goodbye, Ronald," she interrupted coldly, pulling her arm away.

"Come on, Ginny, don't - "

"I do believe I said goodbye," she said in a low, deadly voice. He ducked his head again, pulling his hand back to his chest. "Don't forget my message," she called over her shoulder, regaining her warmth as Draco helped her up into the carriage. Blaise turned to Ron, his lustiness returning as his eyes swept over him obviously again.

"Right, Weasel. See you round. Happy holidays!" he said, grinning. Ron whimpered and stepped back as Blaise jogged to the open door, stepping up and launching himself into the carriage. The door clicked shut, gently, behind them, and then everything was quiet. As the dark set in and the carriage began to pull away he felt the pain in his chest, the pain of seeing his sister break away. Even though he knew he'd see her very, very, soon, he couldn't help but feel like he hadn't known her lately, and would never see that cheery, bubbly, can-do-everything-won't-back-down-brave-as-shit-cartwheels-and-butterflies baby sister, and feel hurt.

* * *

Right. God, this chapter sucks ass, and I'm sorry. It's 12 pages! Hope you liked it, and I'm working on it a lot lately, plus I've got so many ideas my grades are dropping bad since I've been working on it in school too. Review like the wind, ladies and gents, and I'll see what I can do for thee!

This chapter's song is called 'Modern Romance' by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, from the album 'Fever To Tell'. Once again, I do not own Harry Potter or anything related, because if I did, I'd buy some new sweaters for V-Day and hopehopehope that Travis ever saw something in me. HP and its belongings belong to the Queen and Ruler of All, beloved J.K. Rowling with her Warner Bros. Inc. companions. Toodles.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Story Title: _Stings Like Fire_

Summary: _Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…What happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?_

I'd like to thank Tarra (tar-ra)- little-munchkin-poo, blissful sin, Eve Granger, JADECOWAN, Nickel, and everybody else who reviews this fic almost every time I update. Without you guys I wouldn't get off my lazy ass and type, nor would I get better, which I have been… I hope you guys enjoy this fic!

I'm sorry this is late. My brother was just diagnosed with type 2 diabetes at a dangerous level, and was immediately hospitalized… we flew out to see him. Draco's gonna be a little OOC at the beginning of this chapter. Sorry. But I had to have that in here.

* * *

The train pulled up to a small train station out in the country, the front of the station practically empty with the exception of a lone man, holding a small white sign that said "Malfoy/Students". A man toward the back of the train loaded up their luggage, while the three of them clambered down the steps onto the snow-laden cobblestones. As Ginny stepped down, she noticed with an eerie chill that the station was very empty, despite the man who was to take them to the Manor. She stepped aside and waited for Draco, who immediately latched onto her arm as he stepped down.

"Why's it so empty?" she questioned, a tinge of fear in her eyes. Draco's own swept across the station's yard cautiously, hurrying her after their chauffer.

"Didn't you hear? There's been a Death Eater sighting. My father, and one of the Lestrange men apparently came and gathered new followers. Plus, it's dark. Not alot of people come out to the train station at night."

Ginny looked up at him.

"Who were they?"

He looked right back at her, his eyes deep and intriguing.

"Well, there were two men, a Lucien Bonn and an Alexander Chapman. There was also one woman, a Katie Knox."

Her mouth fell open in shock.

"Alexander Chapman? Oh, Draco, I knew him! Zandy was a friend of Fred and George's! He went to Hogwarts for awhile, before he dropped out,I think.And Katie Knox? I think that's his wife!"

Draco nodded solemnly. They kicked up snow with their feet while Blaise carried on happy conversation with the driver, following him down a small pathway. After a moment, Draco cleared his throat.

"I knew Lucien Bonn. He was a friend of mine, back a year or two ago. He grew up with me and Blaise, just a mile down the road. He looks almost uncannily like me."

Ginny nodded, absorbing this, before she immediately jumped back in panic, fumbling for her wand.

"Stay where you are! I know most of the worst jinxes you've never even laid eyes on! One move closer and I'll blow your balls off!"

Draco sighed, exasperated, but couldn't help but feel a little bit of fear for himself.

"Ginny - " he began, walking cautiously over to her.

"No! Stay where you are! One more move, and I'll - "

"Ginny, stop it. It's Draco."

"I don't know that! How could I know that? You could be this Lucien fellow!"

He rolled his eyes.

"It's me, you nitwit. Ask me something. Ask me anything. If I answer right, you'll know."

She tilted her head back, jutting out her chin as she peered at him with half-lidded eyes, wand never leaving him. Her eyes fluttered as she thought, tossing question after question as her heart raced. She needed one that only he could answer correctly.

"If you're really Draco," she stammered, "if you're really Draco, do you really love me?"

He stared at her blankly, and he saw her eyes widening, her face paling.

"Ginny - " he said hurriedly, fumbling for time.

"Answer the damn question!" she snapped, jabbing her wand in his direction. He jumped, chin bobbling.

"Alright, alright. What was the question? 'Do I really love you.' Right."

She stared at him, eyes hard, her wand shaking as her hand trembled. His own hands shook from where he had them held in the air, goosebumps flooding over him. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. In his mind, he saw himself and Blaise, in his dorm room, only hours ago.

"You keep saying you don't know love, but you do. You know it in Ginny. You know Ginny and you're fine with her, you tolerate her. You keep saying you don't know what love is, when you've known all along and been alright with it. You think I'm not making sense, but I am. Ginny is love. And you like it because you like her."

He opened his eyes, swallowing deeply, focusing as he stared her in her coffee colored eyes, irises so craftily emotional around her widening pupils.

"Yes. Iguess do really love you. I love you more than Potter, more than Ron, more than anyone. I love you so much it hurts for me to know that you have to have Potter's child, not mine. I love you so much I'd ask you to marry me one day, but I can't in fear that you'll say no. I love you so much that I'd never admit it, no, not in a million years to anyone else, but I am now and to you alone. I do love you, in the whole three and a half months I've gotten to know you. I do."

Her hand fell, slightly, before she pressed her wand back into her coat. Then she ran to him, clinging to him, as he hugged her tightly, pulling her back to lead her on. They didn't speak on the way after the chauffer. In a way, there was nothing to be said.

(A/N: I know. It's kind of sappy, and I apologize. But I had to stick this in somewhere…It goes with the plot. Oops! I need to shush.)

* * *

"So how's my mum?" was Draco's first question to a gray-haired man in the front of the carriage. He slid in after Ginny, who slid in after Blaise, who'd stood by the door of the carriage, waiting for Draco and Ginny to get over their tear-fest before he got in. The man turned his head, smiled wanly, and then directed the driver before returning his attention.

"She's been well, as of late. She's just been fixing up the library. She also said your father's been keeping something from her, or something. She said she's never been in the library, and now she knows why."

Draco looked at him suspiciously.

"Why's that?"

The man grinned.

"She hasn't come out since. She's had breakfast, lunch, and dinner in there. All she does is sit around and read. She ordered a glass case for something, although I just can't think of what."

Draco chuckled. It sounded just like Mother to be very secretive. He was glad she'd found the library. He only wished that she had some place to go that was safe, and he was very relieved it had been the library. He recalled his father's stern voice in his mind, back a few years ago.

"This library is the safest room in the Manor, next to the vault, Draco. It has every shielding spell you can think of on it, soundproofed walls, everything. Spell-proof glass, too, along with hydro-gel to keep out ghosts. Ghosts hate water, did you know that?"

Draco smiled wanly and shook his head, silent. But inside his head, he couldn't help but think, What about Moaning Myrtle?

"Ah, yes, Draco, the study's the safest place on this land. I want you to remember this, boy. Always keep this in your head, but never tell anyone. It'll be but our secret, and ours alone."

Draco scoffed aloud. _"But our secret." _Bollocks. But that had been back before Power-Hungry-Father erupted into Lucius's brain. Back when Draco was just barely a boy, who couldn't understand.

Ginny's arm brushed his elbow. He turned his head and took her in; wind tousled curls, freckled face pale but smiling in the dark. He reached for her hand, more for his own reassurance, and squeezed. She lifted a corner of her mouth and squeezed back, turning to take in the scenery.

"Jiles, my father hasn't been 'round, has he?" Draco asked uncertainly, scrutinizing the old man's face down to every possibly guilty freckle.

"Nope. The only thing we got from him was a scrap of paper. We burned that, of course, and we haven't heard anything since the attack."

Draco narrowed his eyes. He had expected him to lie, of course, but was fairly relieved to see no guilt or trace of untruth when he examined the man. He sighed and sat back, relaxing. He knew Jiles wouldn't lie. No, that'd be nonsense.

"Well. That's good. Mite of bad luck for those who got taken, though," Blaise sighed, but smiled all the same. Ginny eyed him stupidly.

"'All's well that ends well', you think? Just because you get to lounge around over holiday shoving your face with bon-bons and scones, everything's well and accounted for as long as you don't have to lift a foot."

"Why, yes, Ginny, as long as I shove my face full of arrogant, rich food, I'll be satisfied," he snarled sarcastically. Ginny sat back in her seat, eyes suddenly alight.

"I hope you get gout," she growled, and he cackled.

"Always wish the worst upon the best, Ginny."

The carriage rumbled through a wide cast-iron gate, then up a cobblestone drive. When it pulled into the loop before the front door, Ginny was the first to tumble out, standing impatiently with her sudden annoyance clear as a bell on her face. Draco shiftily stood beside her, pressing himself to be the barrier between her and Blaise, who scoffed and mumbled beneath his breath. When their luggage was out and at their feet, waiting to be carried, the doors suddenly burst open and Narcissa skipped out lively, her face flushed and eyes unfocused.

"Well, hello! I'm so glad you all are here! Have you been having a wonderful time?" Narcissa asked, cheer bouncing from cheek to cheek. Ginny eyed her strangely, committing her to memory to ask about later. She smiled anyway, offering warmth to the wonderful woman.

"Just a dandy time," Ginny forced, lying through her grinning teeth. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Mother. But if you don't mind, we're rather tied so we'd like to see our rooms."

He was stepping up to push past her when she put out an arm, stopping him abruptly.

"Mother - " he began testily, but Narcissa cut him off.

"If you'd give the speaker a chance to speak, I find that he is much smarter than you think."

He eyed her, then stepped back. Her warm glow seemed to fade slightly as she clasped her hands firmly in front of her.

"While you are on your stay, I pray that you will follow the rules we have set for you. Listen carefully. One; do not leave the Manor after precisely 9:30 o'clock in the evening unless you are accompanied by an adult or a guard. Two; if you are forced to leave the house in the daytime, use what we have dubbed, 'the buddy system'. You are not permitted to leave the building alone. Three; curfew is 12 o'clock on weeknights. 2 o'clock on weekends. We suggest you abide these time limits. If you happen to see someone whom you know is not allowed on these grounds, alert me or the guards immediately after sighting. It is imperative that you listen to our instructions and do whatever the guards tell you. Other than that, you're welcome to anything that is one these grounds."

When her cheeriness was back, she unclasped her hands and slapped them against her sides.

"Well, then. Now that that's settled, Jiles will take you each to your rooms. Draco, you and Blaise shall stay on your floor, the 2nd floor, while Ginny shall be staying on the third. If either of you boys pass your floor you will be captured by a triggering enchantment and the alarm in my room shall sound. Other than that, you are welcome to do anything you'd like!"

Then she turned and walked through the door, the three befuddled teenagers following. She suddenly stopped and turned, and the trio stepped back, her glassy-eyed stare lingering on each of them for a moment.

"For most of your stay, I will be in my study. Please, do not bother me unless the door is open or I am in another portion of the house."

Then she spun again, stalked down the hallway to an oak door, and disappeared.

* * *

Ginny was snuggled into a parlor chair around 2 o'clock in the morning, a wide, red-leather bound book perched on her lap. She was in her nightgown and a bathrobe, her legs tucked beneath her and an oil lamp just near her head burning brightly. She turned the page. The stairs creaked. She sighed, almost dreamily, and continued to read, eyes strange and glossy as she absorbed the fiction on the page. The door opened, a crack. She looked up, found nothing, and continued to read, eyes sweeping dangerously over the book. A hand slipped through the open door. She smiled and focused on the person, a feel of unwelcome relief flooding over her as Draco slithered into the room. 

"God, doesn't anyone sleep anymore?" he murmured, blinking sleepily, mussing his hair with an idle hand as he plopped down onto the cushions next to her.

"How did you know I was here?" She slipped a red ribbon in the crease of the pages, looking innocently up at him.

"Well, I sent an owl to your room, and there was no reply. I came to the top of my staircase. You left the light shining fairly bright in here."

She smiled, then continued to examine her page. He scooted her gently aside, falling beside her as he wrapped his arms smoothly around her waist, pressing his mouth to her pale, peachy shoulder. She sighed and continued to read her book, half-attentive as he rested the side of his head against her shoulder, taking a deep breath.

"I'm so glad you came," he murmured, half awake. She giggled.

"Like I had anywhere else to go."

He shrugged.

"I'd've figured you'd rather go be with your family than be with me."

"Ah, but I will get to see my family. Your mother informs me that they're coming out for her Ball, or something."

He perked up, just a little, cracking a single eye.

"Oh?"

She grinned to her printed pages.

"Why, yes. I thought you'd have had some knowledge of this."

He feigned calmness, knowledge. But his stammers gave him away.

"Why - why of course I knew that, Ginny. Of - of course."

She nestled down in to his arms, smiling like a painter cat.

"So. When is this Ball, Draco?"

He closed his eyes.

"It's tomorrow evening, love."

She nodded and reread a single sentence, snapping her head up to stare at the far wall.

"Tomorrow evening?" she whispered in disbelief, eyes wide. He curled his arms further around her, rubbing her sides.

"Yup. I figured you'd have known, you being the snoop that you are."

She swallowed and stared back down at her book, eyes unfocused.

"Of course I knew," she snapped, panicked as she softened around the edges. "I just - I haven't got a gown yet, is all."

He scoffed.

"Don't worry 'bout that. We'll settle that in the morning. Just close your little book and get some sleep. God knows we'll need it for the havoc wrought tomorrow."

She closed her eyes simultaneously with her red-leather bound book, snuggling down into his arms. He reached up, smoothly, and turned down the lantern, until it's warm glow was but a flicker in the smoky glass.

"G'night," he whispered, right in her ear, pressing his lips to it as he smoothed himself around her. She folded her hands contentedly on top of his, resting her head back against his shoulder.

"Goodnight."

* * *

There were clomping footsteps up the staircase. A door slammed, loud, and then another. More stomping steps, then a small, bouncy jump at the bottom of the landing. Someone ran to the parlor door and threw it open, jumping inside, shielding his eyes. Cautiously, he peered over his hand and let it drop, smugness leaking out his ears. 

"Well hells bells. Doesn't anybody ever sleep in their own beds? And why wasn't I invited to this little midnight rendezvous, damn it?"

Draco cracked an eye. Ginny rolled in his arms, pressing her face into his chest, her breathing calm and even like a cat's. He sighed. She was still sleeping. He rolled his eye up to Blaise, who was standing in a very womanly stance, the classic hand on cocked hip. He was grinning so wide Draco would've laughed if his mouth split open. Instead, he opened it.

"'Mornin'."

"Yes, I suppose it is that time of day, where people sleep in. Blaise, if it's morning, why am I awake?" he growled in cool tones. Blaise cheekily grinned.

"Oh, shut it. It's not like you've got shit-else to do anyway."

Ginny rustled restlessly, then shuddered, mumbling into Draco's nightshirt.

"Is that Blaise?" she grumbled, rubbing her face against the cool silk.

Draco shot Blaise a deadly glare. He just deflected it, turning his head to stare at an old picture of Draco's great uncle that uncannily resembled Harry Potter's uncle, Vernon? Was that his name?

"Yes, it sure is."

She groaned loudly, sighing. Blaise raised an eyebrow, straining to hear her sleepy retort.

"Tell him to get started on that gout I wished upon him."

Draco sleepily chuckled, his rumbling laughter shaking the couch. Blaise just frowned, glaring down at her.

"You heard the lady," Draco said simply. "Go get started on that gout. Leave us be, at least until two."

Blaise shook his head, non-moving from his still spot.

"No can do. Cissa says to come and rouse the two of you before the guests come in. She says it'll be very unpleasant if they arrive and see the two of you all 'intimately intertwined' . She said that if she has to come in here and remove the two of you, you will wish you've been under the Cruciactus instead of beneath her hand of wrath."

Ginny mumbled and groaned. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"She also said that some guests have begun to arrive already. She said they would make one of you very happy."

The duo on the couch, eyes closed and chests silently rising and falling, appeared to be asleep. Blaise grinned again and tiptoed to the door, reaching around and crooking his finger. Instantaneously, two parallel beings with exact appearance crept through the door, surveying the scene with scandalous grins.

"Well. Looky what we've got here! Won't Mum just love the look o' this," one said to the other, nodding toward the parlour couch.

"I see what you mean. Mom'll blow her crock if she comes in 'ere and sees these two - er - like this," the other replied with a devilish grin, staring down upon the two. They were still as rocks. The first huffed.

"We should do something," he said. The other nodded.

"Yes, we should. If not to - er - _improve_ the situation."

The first grinned to the second.

"What do you recon?" he asked.

The second idly stroked his imaginary goatee, fingers stroking the pale-white skin while he thought up a sumptuous plan.

"Right, I've got it," he said, striking the air triumphantly. He leaned over his brother, casually, while he laid out his plan. He whispered, sneakily, and at one point said something that apparently needed a reaction.

"Too right, too right. Wouldn't want the coppers on us, though," the first sighed heavily. But his grin flickered, nonetheless, as the second leaned over him again, whispering incoherently.

"As if. Alright. Now. Where do we start?" he said, grin still wide and malicious. The first rubbed his hands together, eyebrow piercing his forehead.

"At the beginning, of course. You get Ginny. I'll take care of the other."

Blaise stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, arms crossed as he contentedly watched. He was very, _very_ lucky these two had arrived before the others, and was only in more luck when they weren't bothered by the 'lovely' scene. In truth, he had been clambering up and down the hallways and stairs for nearly an hour searching for the couple, realizing in dead horror that if her family arrived and found them together, wherever they were, in any _strange_ way, her mother would personally see to it that Draco was never given the option to have children again. She might've had some fondness for the boy, but honestly, what mother is fond of her only daughter being deflowered by such a testosterone-filled individual? With all respect given it's due, none, unless their daughter was some kind of bint or such. He shuddered.

The copper-headed duo stood back to examine their work. Ginny, always a heavy sleeper, was dangling in midair, dress covering her pale-but-flushed face. The boys had taken their well-given opportunity and taken advantage of the situation themselves. Draco, ever the manly man, had been given quite _lovely_ pink hair and been stripped down to his boxers, hanging from a chandelier. Ginny was hanging by her toes from another, and red ribbon had been draped over and around her, into her hair and through the button holes of her nightgown. Her dress, though, due to her extreme sleeping area, had slid along her legs and down her head, resting on the swell of her chest to cover her chest and face. All-in-all, she was hanging in all her glory, pale, peachy legs swathed in blood-red ribbon, contrasting white knickers unnoticed between the creamy complexion of her milky stomach, which rose and began to swell toward her breasts but halted as the nightgown covered the rest of her body. The duo stepped back, clapping imagined dirt from their hands, and crossed their arms while Blaise whistled low beneath his breath.

"So, Blaisey me-boy, what'd'you think?" Fred inquired to the lazy raven headed boy, who looked on in strange, boyish wonder at the godlike figure dangling in her nightgown.

Blaise took a deep breath, barely aware anyone else was listening.

"I think… that the gods should bow down to this wonderful luxury we have so innocently ignored. With a body that wonderful, it is a miracle that girl can still pridefully be called a virgin. She is beautiful and such a sweet-hearted soul; it's merely amazing we men walk the earth without knowledge of a beauty so far than skin deep. I want to touch her; so badly the need to do so, it is crippling," he said, voice so soft Fred and George had to angrily strain to hear the rest.

Their pale faced fumed, the redness so deep and swelling the freckles were nonexistent. Fred was leaning out, fingers curling near the base of the young man's neck, when the front door's gonging brought him back out of his trance. They narrowed their eyes at Blaise, who continued to stare at Ginny's odd beauty, before turning to each other.

"Well, Fred, I think it's about time to flee the scene of the crime."

Fred nodded.

"You're right, George. We'll come back and maim this little hornball-Shakespeare-wanna-be-beast later," he replied gruffly. Together they ducked their heads and slipped through the parlor door, around the bend of the hall, and disappeared just as an odd-shaped, boisterous woman hobbled down the hallway, an elegant straw hat perched delightfully atop her mass of deep-copper curls.

She trotted silently up behind Blaise, resting a plump hand on his shoulder. She gave him a gentle shake to rouse him from his daydreams, but he continued staring up at the delightful Ginny, paying her no mind. She shook him again, staring at him.

"Young man, can you tell me - hello? Are you awake, child? Good heavens… Hello? I'm just looking for my…" she said, trailing off as she followed his gaze toward her dangling daughter. What she saw made her take two wobbling steps back, clutching her plentiful bosom as if her heart would bust out of her chest. She gasped, mouth agape, as she took it all in, covering her mouth.

"Good heavens! My gracious!"

She forcefully tore her stare from her daughter to pierce the face of Blaise's, who continued to stare on. Angry and fuming, she grabbed his ear, roughly breaking him away from the priceless image of beauty.

"What is this, boy? What are you trying to pull? Get her down from there, I say! There is no reason whatsoever - who's fault is this? Why is she up there? Get her down! Get her down now, or I'll - good gracious!"

Blaise curled in pain as she ripped him by his ear out into the hallway, down the corridor, and into the east parlor, where Narcissa sat, book perched on her knees. When she saw her old companion she simply beamed; but when her eyes fell to Blaise's pain-filled face, she frowned deeply and rose from her armchair.

"Molly! I'm simply delighted to see you but am curious as to why you are bodily dragging one of Draco's companions throughout my household! What's the meaning of this?"

Molly huffed but reluctantly released her grip on Blaise's ear, who sighed and rubbed his ear, gazing at Narcissa with noticeable thankfulness in his eyes.

"'What's the meaning of this?' I'll tell you what the meaning is! My only daughter is dangling from a chandelier in your parlor - naked! If there's anything I want to know what the meaning of it is, I want to know why in great Merlin she's hanging up there!" she spluttered, panting heavily. Narcissa stepped back, eyes wide, and stared in disbelief from Molly to Blaise, who stared back at her in fear.

"Show me where they are," Narcissa demanded, and Molly lead her across the foyer to the west parlor, coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Narcissa gasped, shocked.

"Draco!"

Up above them, jangling the chandelier wildly, was her son in his black silk boxers, angrily tearing at the invisible bonds that held him to the light fixture.

"Mother! I - you know - this is not what it looks like - " he began, face reddening, but stopped at his mother's furious dismissive hand.

"It damn well better _not_ be what it looks like!" she roared, stalking over to stand below him.

"Really, Narcissa - " Blaise began, racing after her to calm her, but she waved him off.

"Somebody get my wand. Really - what in Merlin's name? - I don't want to know. Somebody get my wand. Good heavens; if the guests get here and you're still hanging here, Draco, I'll - really, where is my wand? Someone get my wand!" she ordered now, flapping her hand at Draco as she stalked out of the room to search for it. Just as she was leaving, Ginny came to, immediately angry and embarrassed at having her knickers shown to the open public of the parlor. But as she awoke, she hadn't known her mother was standing just meters below. And as she hacked at her dress to hold it to her thighs, she opened her mouth, too.

"What the bloody hell in Merlin's name is going on here? Can a person not fucking _sleep_ without waking up to find their fucking knickers being shown to the whole fucking world? Where the hell are the twins? I'm going to kick their asses raw, I will, if only I could get down from here! They can just wait, as fucking soon as I - " she roared, faltering as a redfaced Molly Weasley reappeared, and as Narcissa stepped into the doorway simultaneously. They all gaped at her, open mouthed, before Narcissa made a feeble move at civilization.

"Found my wand," she muttered lamely, staring up at her.

Molly, so surprised she couldn't speak, rolled her eyes back into her head and fainted to the silence of swinging chandeliers and spluttering breathing.

* * *

The French doors of her bedroom terrace were shut tight and bolted as Ginny huffed and puffed around her room, searching for something to wear. After a weary tongue-lashing from her mother she had been allowed to go to her room, if only to get dressed, before the guests (presumably her family) arrived. She threw open the wardrobe, haphazardly selecting a pair of loose jeans and a t-shirt that read Snow Patrol in bright yellow letters across the bland blackness. Pulling it over her head and casting a spell to curl her hair, she hooked it behind her ears and slipped into some shoes grabbing her jacket, still growling beneath her breath as she descended the lush red-carpeted stairs. She barely glanced down as she hurried; below her a ring of people, shifting quite uneasily, awaited her descent. 

"It's about bloody time," Fred grumbled beneath his breath, turning as she took the last step and started a stiff pace toward the doors, George on his heels. They'd been hoping, of course, to disappear before their mother caught them standing and decided to punish them, but they didn't go unnoticed. As they advanced upon the heavy oak doors their mother sidled up between them, murmuring low to them, but just high enough that Ginny was able to hear.

"You haven't gone without punishment, boys. I expect you to be standing stiff and straight at the scene of the crime when everyone's seen and accounted for."

They sulkily slowed down, hoping to slow up their time. But one of the house-keepers, Bridget, prodded them stiffly in the smalls of their backs, sending them scurrying.

Ginny, still red-faced, fell into step with Draco, who was scowling in embarrassment. As his mother passed them on the way to the door, she sent both of them a very strange look, one whose lips were pursed so tight they were almost a line, and whose eyes were so suspicious Ginny feared for all her tightly-locked secrets. But she exceeded them and was soon standing like an anchor at the door, a false grin on her face, the glassiness in her eyes returning. The old Ford had arrived and was parked at the front steps, a car full of people piling out, one at a time.

Ginny stood back, leaning against Draco, and waved to each of them with a lazy, half-eyed stare that nearly had them melting. One by one they emerged from the tiny blue contraption, each brushing themselves off and smiling falsely. One by one they stood around, shifting uneasily, until they began to move toward the steps, each of them waving happily at Ginny, ignoring Draco.

Harry smiled shyly and waved, blushing. As she turned to giggle, she even had time to catch him blowing a kiss, which turned her bright red.

He leaned rather close to her ear, and through his smug silence she could hear him smirk.

"If I were you, doll, I wouldn't chance being too friendly with him 'til the time is right," he whispered as she waved and blew the kiss politely back. She stopped, frowning.

"Why so? Just because he shows very frivolous interest in me, doesn't label him dangerous. Jealous much?"

He leaned away slightly appalled. She watched his temper rise into his eyes and shrank back.

"If anything, angry at your brainless behavior. Ginny, Potter is Dumbledore's golden boy and I know you know it! We've been to see the Dark Lord, and I know _he_ knows! We're in this together, so Potter could just as easily be trying to lure you into Azkaban, just as well as I," he replied coldly, slightly cockier than he'd intended. She dropped her hand and turned sharply to face him.

"Draco, I had no choice but to go! And then, once there, my only choice was to save your ungrateful ass! Harry's rather nice - with the exception of - well - you know - and the closer I get to him, the easier my 'mission' will be, so shut up and stop trying to persuade me to do everything you mention. I'm not at all like that ugly cow Parkinson, and if you see me as something of her image, I'd like to go home."

He flinched delicately at the name, but softened when he saw Ginny's hurt expression as she began to turn back to the car where the others had grouped. He moved slowly toward her, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her to him.

"I'm sorry, Ginny. You're right, I shouldn't've jumped to such conclusions. I'm just a little - uh - _unnerved_ by other folks laying greedy eyes on you. Makes a fellow want to claim what's his and all," he murmured, kissing her temple. After a moment, she turned and hugged back.

"Alright. Perhaps I'm brushing the rail a bit," she sighed. His rough chuckle grazed his five o'clock shadow against her cheeks and made her giggle.

"A bit?" he quipped, leaning away with a smirk on his lips. "You've gone off the ship! Try jumping the plank."

She scoffed and socked him in the arm.

"Shut up," was her muffled gurgle as he squeezed her tightly.

"I can't reach, dearest," he sniggered, letting go of her as the Weasley family - with the exception of Bill, Charlie, and Percy, of course - Harry, and Hermione bustled up the steps into the parlor. Each member stopped and hugged them, each beaming proudly but eyeing uneasily. Fred and George caught Draco's eyes as they followed them into the house, shooting him a hot glare. Molly scolded them for their behavior, then prodded both of them hard, moving her husband on into the Manor to discontinue his suspicious stares. The Trio followed obediently, waving at Ginny, except for Harry, who grinned bashfully at her, while she smiled back politely. When they were gone into the parlor, her smile disintegrated. She turned to the car, wondering how long it would take to shove them all back in and send them back, when something cold, wet, and hard hit her square in the back. She spun around, only to see Draco grinning devilishly, packing snow into a tiny white ball.

"Oops, I missed," was his innocent retort to her stare. She gave an animal-like growl and stooped to pick up some snow, uneasily packing it in as it threatened to melt in her hands and hurled it carelessly in his direction. With flooding satisfaction, she giggled as it hit him full in the face, white cold flakes dripping down into his shirt. He brushed his face and hurled the ball absently, hitting her in the stomach. She gave a small _oomph_ and brushed away the snow, glaring at him as she held her shirt out for inspection.

"You! Argh, you're in for it!" she cried, chasing after him as he ran. He turned skillfully around, running backwards, smirking and panting simultaneously. He was almost out of reach when a loud, high-pitched whistle quaked through the air, very different from the one that she'd heard the night before. He stumbled in the snow, falling onto his back, watching the direction from whence it had come. Narcissa poked her head around the side of the house, beckoning them with her stern gaze and crooked finger.

"Draco, Ginny, you both need to come in here. We're going to go over the guest list really quick-like, and then Apparate to Diagon Alley to go get you both some suitable dressings for the Yule Ball. Hurry up, now, wouldn't want to throw off everyone's schedules, would you?" she growled, then turned and disappeared around the corner. Ginny helped Draco up wordlessly, but held onto his arm as they walked together toward the steps. Behind her, Ginny's every step left a wet, warm hole in the foot of snow.

* * *

"Alright. Now, be quiet, you. We're just going to go over it really fast, and then you all may go. Now. Most of these people are family friends, and some you might know. Just listen." 

She cleared her throat and held up a piece of parchment, the black-ink-words seeming to leak through the paper. She adjusted half-moon spectacles on the tip of her nose and strained to see through to her own writing.

"Right, now. First off, there's my favorite cousin Lovatia Rison - she lives out near Paris; I went to see her once. Then there's her daughter, Gemma, who's nineteen, and her younger brother, Jamison, who's 14. There's an old schoolmate of mine and Molly's, Marietta Davies, and her daughter Sylvia, who's 17, (she goes to some school in Austria), her son George Michael - who's 15 - and then their younger sister, Jaclyn, who's 7."

She paused to take a breath and to look up at the rest of them, who just stood on in dead-boredom. She adjusted her spectacles and continued to read, taking another breath. The group sighed.

"There's my ex-fiancée Jackson, who's - well - my age, and his daughter Nadia, who's 12. Then there's some other old friends of mine, Amar, and his son Kartik who is 17; Pippa Bradshaw and her daughter Felicity, who's 16; Cecily Cross and her daughter Elizabeth, who's 19, and her little brother Peter, who's 4."

She averted her eyes to examine them all again, before sighing and returning to her list.

"Here's some you might know. There's the Bones's, the Jordan's, the Weasley's of course - uhm - the Parkinson's, Blaise's mother, the Chang's, the Crabbe's, the Goyle's, the Bulstrode's, the Johnson's, the Spinnett's, the Bell's… uhm… the Bradley's… the Chapman's… and the Bonn's. And… that's all, I suppose."

She exhaled loudly and examined her list once again, before tucking it delicately beneath a glass paperweight on a side table.

"Now. If you'll be ready in 10 minutes to go out, we'll leave for Diagon Alley to find you all some dress clothes," she said happily.

Happy to be out of her sight, they parted immediately, the Weasley group trodding heavily up the steps to find their designated rooms. The doors of the east parlor were shut tight, but not tight enough to keep out Molly Weasley's high screams. Ginny giggled and grabbed Draco's hand, pulling him down a corridor into the kitchen, where she plopped down heavily into a stool.

"That went wonderfully," she laughed in sarcasm as Draco fell into one across from her.

"Of course it went 'wonderfully'. But you know, there'll be more people than she listed at the actual Ball," he sighed.

"Don't sound so pouty about it. I'm sure it'll be a blast," she smiled. He smiled warily back at her, leaning over to steal a kiss.

"Of course it will."

* * *

Well. I'm very sorry it's been nearly overthree-four months since I've updated. What with my brother getting diabetes and Spring Break and all, I really haven't been around. But be grateful! The next chapter'll be on it's way, and the next chapter of Silver on Red will be following it too! REVIEW!

Blah. I meant to have this up awhile ago. and the chapter i promised would follow, i might have to write it over again. if there's typos, please forgive. i know not what i did.


	13. Chapter Thirteen ignore typos!

**Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

**Summary: _You get it, right?_**

**A/N: Good job. Review more. Here's the next chapter; a few others should come faster. **

* * *

Blaise, grinning widely, every step bouncing, threw open the door and stepped into the room, to take in the two of them, leaning over the kitchen counter, murmuring quietly, giggling and smirking. He cleared his throat and pouted down at them, lower lip pulled out in appeal.

"What, no kiss for me, hmm? Is that how it is now?"

Ginny softly broke her eyes from Draco's dark troubled ones, peering up at Blaise in curiosity.

"What, you want my love as well as my presence now, is that it? Tsk tsk, Blaise, I always thought different of you," she teased.

He smirked, silent, then suddenly grabbed her wrist and jerked her up.

"Wha-? Blaise, stop!" she cried, as he began to drag her out into the hallway, up to the loud clanking and crashing of what she plainly assumed was the Twins's bed chambers. The fingers of her unoccupied hand clawed at the doorframe, catching at the edge and stopping them both short. He turned back to her, scowling.

"Damn woman, and her damn nails," he grumbled, as Draco stood up and stalked over, releasing Ginny's hand from Blaise's death grip.

"What's all this, Blaise? What, trying to steal my woman, now?" he muttered, stepping between them. Blaise peered pointedly around him to Ginny, who looked on in comfortable curiosity.

"As a matter-of-fact - " he began, and Draco smirked.

"Oh geez, he's onto facts now, this could take awhile," he interrupted.

" - I was just about to take Ginny up to Fred and George's room to see a new thing they've been working on. They specifically requested her presence, with their promise that no harm shall be done to the lady in their watch. With your permission, of course," he added hastily at Draco's dark glare.

Ginny peered over Draco's shoulder, straining her ear to the new invention creating a lot of ruckus, and weighed her options.

"Oh, Draco, I'm always there for their new inventions. It's like - like - tradition, almost. Always."

"They did ask for her," Blaise said, nodding.

"Yes, they _did_ ask for me," she repeated, pointedly staring pleadingly up at Draco.

He, too, weighed his options.

"I - uhm… I don't know, Ginny. I mean, it _is_ your brothers," he pointed out steadily.

She considered this, but promptly shrugged.

"Oh well. Nothing I can't handle. Awake," she added. "Nothing I can't handle _awake._"

He gave a grim grin and even leaned over as she stretched to kiss his cheek.

"I'll be in my father's study. Blaise knows where, upstairs. I'll be in there if you need me."

Ginny looked to Blaise, who seconded this, before grabbing her hand and dragging her into the hallway once again. As they stomped up the back stairs, Blaise's high, excitement-filled voice trailed off:

"It's so amazing! To think they only created it this morning is completely…"

Scuffling-feet noises filled the silence. High pitched squeals, skittering noises, childish giggles. He rolled his eyes and sighed, trudging into the study.

* * *

He closed the door behind him and leaned on it, the reinforced oak keeping out the wailing screams of laughter from down the hall. He closed his eyes, mentally picturing the room before him, just as he left it: the fainting couch in the corner, behind the long, wide oak desk, the two navy leather wing backed chairs, the sofa against one far wall, the red plush swivel chair behind the desk. A large, picture window filled one wall, the red velvet curtains drawn tight against the beating, watery sunlight. Three walls full of books cluttered the room comfortably: one against the back wall, another to its side, and the whole wall around the door was filled. He opened his eyes and turned his head, examining the other side of the room with dark, memory filled eyes.

The glass table in the center, the sofa to its side. Across from that, disguised in what he knew was fake book cup boarding was his father's liquor cabinets, where he dwelled on all the hard nights he felt as if he 'just couldn't take it'. On the glass table in the center of the half, the crystal bottle blinked and flashed. The invaluable glass seemed to rotate on its glass pedestal, the four glasses around it only pawns to the king. He could see his father on all those evenings, swishing the bottle in his long, thin fingers, filling a glass, swigging it back, the supply seeming endless. The whole room was filled with the smell, the strong, spicy scent of brandy and scotch. Draco wandered to the swivel chair behind the desk, pulling his feet up to rest them in all their muddy glory on what was once his father's important papers and documents.

'Don't need them much now, do you Father? Not in prison, you don't,' he thought, closing his eyes as he gripped the red plushness, smoothing it with his own long fingers. '_No, sure don't.'_

he thought, closing his eyes as he gripped the red plushness, smoothing it with his own long fingers. ' 

Time and life seemed to suspend and halt as he rested there, his wonderful silent splendor shattering by the loud screaming and wailing down the hall. The study door suddenly slammed open, and in ran Blaise, ducking behind the swivel chair, back to the window that overlooked the front loop.

"Draco, please protect me!" he cried, hands gripping the velvety plushness. Draco cracked his eyes open, pulling his feet down, to peer somewhat unsteadily out into the dark, gloomy hall, where something rabid and angry was growling.

"From what?" he groaned, almost peeved by this sudden interruption.

"A woman scorned," he whispered in reply, his voice tight and mystical as, with a mighty, sudden leap, Ginny tore into the room.

"Blaise Zabini!" she screamed, wand suddenly in hand, seemingly pointing to, what Draco suddenly panicked toward, _his _head.

she screamed, wand suddenly in hand, seemingly pointing to, what Draco suddenly panicked toward, head. 

He immediately stood up, hands raised in surrender, and nodded toward her wand.

"Now, Ginny, I'm sure that whatever reason you have that out is a good one, but whatever's going on here can _surely _be dealt with _without_ your little wand's help," he said gently. She huffed, waved him out of the way.

"I'm sure," she snarled sarcastically, pointing now, to Draco's relief, Blaise's crouched figure. "Now get on out, Zabini, before my 'little wand' - " she darted her eyes at Draco, who blanched - " - becomes involved."

"I'm sure it's not all as bad as you're making it out to be, Ginny," Draco said calmly, hands still raised.

"No, it really surely isn't," Blaise commented uncertainly, seconding Draco's remark.

Draco stiffly shook his head, and Blaise nodded quickly and ducked back down toward the shelter of the swivel chair. Draco pressed his hands toward the air in her direction, as if willing her to put it down.

"No, I'm sure that whatever's got you in such a tiff could be cured with a could scolding, a slap, maybe, or even just a good, long, lesson-filled lecture," he gulped. Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, now, wand still pointed at Blaise, who whimpered as it took a threatening jab at him. Red sparks flew from the tip. He screeched.

"I'm going to lecture your ass with my foot in just a second, Draco Malfoy, if you really don't shut your mouth."

He stepped down off of his invisible soap box.

"Yes ma'am, I'll hush now," he murmured obediently.

Blaise scoffed loudly. Draco narrowed his eyes at him, and flicked them to Ginny.

"Ginny, I'm sure we can just settle this normally. If you'd just tell me what happened - " he crooned in his softest voice, luring Ginny to him. She just stared on at him, the anger no longer flashing from everywhere, the heat that filled the room ebbing a little. The sweat beading on his forehead dripped down onto his temple.

She squeaked.

"Actually, I bet it's not really all that bad. What did he do?"

Ginny just watched him, features softening. Suddenly, she perked up, brow furrowing again, the heat blazing, attacking like a hard slap. He stepped back.

"What? Oh! 'What did he do?' 'What did he _do_?' I'll tell you what he did. He chopped - chopped - " she stammered, and stopped to swallow, apparently choking on the emotion of this situation.

"Well? He…? He chopped what?" he inquired softly, coming cautiously toward her. "What did he chop?"

Ginny stared up at him, small tears bubbling in her eyes.

"He chopped off some of my hair, Draco! My _hair!_ And your mother's ball is _tonight!"_ she wailed, and he brought her forward in his arms.

A bitter smile graced Blaise's lips as he rose from behind the chair.

"Seems as if I upset her a little," he said quietly. Ginny tore away from Draco abruptly, her wand pointing dangerously at Blaise, who jumped back.

"Now, Ginny, I'm sure Blaise's awful coordination skills were the only fault of this. I'm sure he honestly didn't mean to."

"Oh, yeah?" she said, sarcasm dripping. He ignored the tone and fingered her slightly-uneven curls.

"Yeah. I bet we can even get it fixed. Nobody'll notice."

Her roughness subsided a little again.

"Really?" she murmured hopefully. He nodded, twirling a finger in them.

"Really really. Just a little extension spell until we get to the Alley, and then we'll get someone to do something about it."

"Really, could we? That would be wonderful. Do you think anyone could tell?"

He shook his head.

"Of course not. Nobody'll even have a clue that Blaise hacked off some of your hair and like a Gringott's goblin hacked it off like a machete."

She immediately pulled away, wand stabbing the air at Blaise's form.

"Way to go, Draco," he grumbled.

"Yes, Draco, _thank you_ for reminding me. Now, Blaise, you'd better start begging for your life before I take it from you."

"But Ginny - " Blaise whined, and he abruptly stopped with a red-spark-filled jab of her wand.

"I'll give you a head start. And trust me, you'd better use your legs well, because I know most of the worst jinxes you've never heard of. So when I count to five, you'd better be well on your way, 'cause I'll _find_ you."

His eyes went wide.

She jabbed at him again, and he jumped, starting toward the door.

"One…two…three…"

His alabaster form disappeared through the doorway, down the hall where they heard his clomping steps take him down into the front foyer. The front door slammed.

Ginny sighed and fingered her hacked-at-curls, circling one around a finger.

"Stupid Blaise."

Draco smiled grimly, running a hand through her hair.

"Don't worry about it, Ginny. I wasn't kidding when I said you could get it fixed. Just put a charm on it until we get to the Alley and we'll get it fixed, good as new."

She leaned in for a kiss as he ran his hand to the ends of her hair, surprised as a lock of red hair came out with them. He hastily put it into one of the crystal glasses next to the bottle of brandy on the glass pedestal, turning back to her with a false smile. She cast a glamour charm on her hair, the only difference a slight discoloration, before she slid her wand back into the folds of her robe.

He stood up and took her hand, leading her out of the room, before he turned to distinguish the light and make sure the brandy bottle and lock of Ginny's hair was still there, sitting, and that he'd remember them. Then he turned out the light and shut the door, unaware of the false cup boarding that was slowly creaking open.

* * *

They stepped out of the carriage outside the gate, moseying through the lightly-falling snow toward the Floo/Transportation House. Inside, various Weasley family members were tossing handfuls of green Floo powder into the climbing fire, calling out their destination in slightly unclear voices. Draco pulled Ginny next to the nearest fireplace, holding her tightly to him as he reached in and grabbed a handful of powder.

"Go ahead, grab one. We'll go in together."

She suspended her hand, but was hesitant reaching into the dish.

"Are you sure it's safe?" she murmured, squeezing it in her hand as they watched the flickering flames. A man in a black uniform and a greasy handle-bar mustache waddled up beside them, prodding Draco in the back. He gave an irritated eye roll.

"Are you two ready to go?" he questioned, his accent deep and rich. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"As soon as you tell us it's clear," he scoffed, rolling his eyes again. The man narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, it's clear all right. Better go."

They turned from him as he said this, Draco annoyed, Ginny thoroughly freaked out. As they tossed their handfuls in, Draco held Ginny to him, stepping into the flames as they called, their voices perfect unison, strict, ringing harmony, "Diagon Alley!"

The man in the black winced and slammed his hand down on a red button on his grid. The gate above that fireplace slammed down, making it clear to all other people in the House that it was occupied. He gave a snarl toward the black iron bars as he turned to the next person, the snarl still evident. The gate didn't come up.

* * *

She stumbled out before him, tumbling to the ground. He came out right behind her, collecting her shaken figure.

"I told you it wasn't safe, and something happened. I told you," she snapped. He brushed the green dust out of his hair, brushed off his robes, and brushed hers off as well, snaking an arm around her waist to guide her out of the corresponding Floo unit. They stepped out onto bustling streets, witches in numerous colors of pointy hats and wizards with thick eyebrows and red faces bustling to reach their destination. Draco, holding Ginny tightly to him, pushed her out into the crowd before him, pushing her hood on her cloak up as he did so, taking a moment to pull his own up also. She looked back at him, confused.

"Don't ask," he murmured, his voice deep and disguised. "You never know how many of my father's cronies still hang out here, looking for me and my mum. It's absolutely necessary," he instructed.

She gave a confused nod as she bustled people out of the way, each awed as a sudden flash of heat overwhelmed them.

"So where to?" she inquired perkily, the looming colorfulness of her favorite shops and stores jumping out and cheering her considerably.

He reached over her shoulder with his free hand, pressing his cheek against her comfortably, his finger pointing. She followed it with her eyes.

"Down there. Past Gringotts, then 'round that corner to the left. The hairdresser's the first shop on the right, and then we'll have to take a trip to _Madame Gladys's Old-Fashioned Dress_ for our clothes. Trust me. Everyone that's going to Mum's ball will be in there."

She gave a wide nod and giggle as he poked her gently in the back.

"We'd better get started, then," she grinned, taking his hand. He frowned down at her quizzically.

"Why? It won't take long, or anything. Right?" he asked uncertainly. She gave a devilish grin.

"Oh come _on,_ Draco. I'm a girl. We're going _shopping._ This could take forever!"

Then, with a final tug, she wrapped her warm fingers around his cold wrist and began to drag him through the people.

* * *

An hour later, she stood in a dressing room, very stiff and straight, standing on a stool with her perky little white toes peeking out from the hem of her dress as she was stabbed with numerous pins. When Madame Gladys disappeared to find her measuring tape, Ginny turned to Draco, taking a deep, gasping breath.

"It's a wonder you can't see me bleeding through this thing. I swear, if child birthing is anything like being stuck with a zillion pins, I'll have none of it," she muttered jokingly. Draco suddenly frowned, eyes darkening. She took gentle hold of his chin, turning it up to face her, leaning rather uncomfortably over to press against his lips.

"Just admire me in my dress. Don't think about it. We've got _months_ to think."

Maybe, she thought.

But she didn't say it.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only noise Ginny's frantic breathing as Draco stared at the silky contrast of her milky skin.

"You okay?" he murmured to her, still staring thoughtfully at her skin and the deep green of her dress.

She gave a nervous smile in reply, face paling as she numbly scrambled to reach the laces of her corset. He frowned as her movements became quicker and more frantic.

"What? What is it?" he asked, watching her face slide into panic. Her breaths were pants, the heaving of her chest pulling at the stitches of her carefully crafted bodice.

"Loose," she panted. "Breathe. Can't - breathe."

He cocked an eyebrow, examining her quizzically.

"What?"

The dress rippled, rose and fell. Her nails snagged on threads at her sides. She gave an irritated huff.

"Can't … can't breathe," she murmured, before suddenly she slowed, like moving through molasses, and fell back onto the floor behind her.

"Ginny!" he cried, jumping up from his chair to roll her onto her stomach. He felt for the laces, but his fingers slid over the silkiness right past them, harboring his movements to release her of the common-woman's death trap.

"Bloody hell, damn dress. Uhm - argh. Excuse me? Excuse me! I need some assistance, please, here! Can someone please come here?" he called, pulling her limply into his lap. A woman in a deep purple gown rushed in, face flushed.

"I ran from the front of the shop when I heard your call. What's happened?"

Her eyes drifted to the otherwise breath-restricted Ginny. She clapped her hands on her thighs, sighing.

"Got another one," she called into the showroom. A moment passed, and then a bustling lady in a multiple-layered maroon dress shuffled into the room. Her pudgy hands dragged against her lace bodice, dropping into the air as she motioned toward Ginny, her whitening red hair frizzing at the forehead. She sighed, turned to the other woman, and said:

"Alright, Ro. Drop down and pry her laces out. I'll get the knife," and turned away.

Ro got down on her knees and rolled Ginny back onto her stomach again, wiggling her slim, pale fingers down the back of Ginny's tight silk bodice.

Moments later, Gladys shambled back into the room, holding a peal-handled knife in a small, dirty white leather scabbard She knelt down next to Ro and pulled the knife out of the scabbard, weaseling craftily between Draco and Ro to insert the tip of the knife beneath the top lace as Ro held the back bodice out of the way. She flipped the tip nimbly and the string automatically loosened, and Ginny came gasping to life. She immediately began to protest, but Draco stilled her.

"She's getting you out of it," he calmed, watching as Madame Gladys cut the next string and then the next, sitting Ginny up to jerk it up out of the dress's bodice. She stood up, heaving herself off pudgy knees, and tossed the lace-less corset into the corner, making a mental note to refigure strings. Draco gripped Ginny tightly in his hands, pulling her up off the floor.

"If you'll let us repackage that, we'll send you off with it now. Because of the mishap, the price has been chopped. You'll now only pay half for the dress."

Draco nodded and Ginny disappeared behind the curtain, pausing from undressing to hand out each piece to Ro, who stood on, waiting patiently. She then disappeared into the front of the room, carrying the bustling fabric delicately in her pale, white arms.

Draco turned to Ginny and pressed his face into her hair, breathing in deeply, the scent of deep scorched cinnamon and sage. She pressed her face into his shoulder, smelling the deep pine scent of the trees of the Manor, the musty smell of the tuxedos on the other side of the room. She breathed in as far as she'd allow, his lips touching her veins as she gasped, and her stomach dropped into her toes. She murmured in reply and pushed her fingers up his back, curling them over the edge of his shoulder as she held tightly, the air spinning and swirling as she steadied herself from the wooing scent of his skin. He laughed, nipping her jaw line. A throat cleared. Madame Gladys tied the twine tightly around Ginny's package, pushing it across the counter. Draco intercepted it slyly, smirking as she pouted up at him. Madame Gladys patted her hand, immediately withdrawing it as a slight wave of searing heat flooded through her veins, but Ginny wasn't paying attention.

"Not yet, Weasel," he sniggered. She rolled her eyes and fingered the edge of the package, the expected roughness of the cardboard instead giving way to the firm, softness of paper. She raised her eyebrows.

"Mum would like this," she murmured, creasing the paper. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Molly'd like anything that looked stronger than it is with all you Weasley wimps around."

Ginny socked him in the arm, and he laughed, while Madame Gladys counted galleons and tallied a receipt, looking on curiously. Finally, she pulled her gaze up, examining Ginny closely, before she tilted her head.

"Pardon my eavesdropping, but did I hear you say you're Molly Weasley's girl?" she inquired, eyeing her beadily.

Ginny shifted her eyes uneasily, finally looking back up at Gladys.

"Uhm, that'd be correct, ma'am."

Her eyes immediately twinkled, and she moved around, back through the curtains to the back room. Draco glanced at Ginny quizzically, but before she could answer with her own curiosity, Madame Gladys came bustling back in, maroon gown _swish swashing_ as she did so. In her hand, was the pearl-handled knive, complete with the dirty white leather scabbard, which she now pressed into Ginny's pale, outstretched hands.

"Here. Take this."

"What? Take - what?" Ginny stammered. Madame Gladys pressed the scabbard down into her palms, eyes still gleaming.

"It was your Mum's back in my years. Don't tell her you have it, of course. She'd come after me. Me and your Mum were the tightest of friends… at least 'til that prediction."

Ginny looked up automatically.

"What? What prediction?"

Madame Gladys's eyes widened, and she leaned forward.

"Why, the prediction of your importance, darling. In Divination, Molly got a prediction. 'Rock, refuge for all. Savior of Worlds, icon of the stars, female power of passion and hair of fire, incomprehensible to ice.' She owled when you were born, crying and laughing like she'd won the lottery, saying it was true. I hadn't believed her, ended it badly, haven't spoken to her since," she ended sadly.

Then she looked up at Ginny, pressing the scabbard firmer into her hands.

"Now, I know what you're going through. Take this. Use it in the best of times, the worst of times. It won't ever betray you, as long as you don't betray it."

Ginny looked on in awe. Draco suddenly drew her back to him, clutching her to him as she clutched the knife to her chest.

"T-thank you, very much. I really appreciate it."

She nodded wisely.

"No, thank _you._ Take care, now."

With that she bustled back through the curtain, humming gently, almost forgotten as Draco pushed Ginny through the door ahead of him, into the unfathomable crowds on the street. All of a sudden, he withdrew his wand.

"What're you doing?" she asked, nodding toward his wand.

He grinned down at her.

"I'm Apparating. See, that crazy old witch in there was just another every day example on why you should be careful where you go. I need to get out of here. We only have a few hours left."

Then, with a crack, he hugged her to him, Apparating to the Floo/Transportation House.

Three hours had passed. In separate rooms, Ginny and Draco dressed alone in complete, uncomfortable silence. Ginny twisted this way and that in front of the mirror, which murmured and commented at all the right intervals.

The specially-made, tight-fit green silk chemise was barely visible beneath the black lace corset, whose lacy busty dip barely peered out from the lowered bustline of the green silk ball gown. She gripped the silkiness in her fingers, the layers of tulle and satin swishing around her feet. A wide, black-spangled ribbon was tied tightly beneath her bustline, lowering the dip slightly, allowing the black and green of her corset and chemise to peer out from the milky freckles of her chest. She pulled up her skirt. Black garters grinned from black stockings, who sloped down to meet silk green ballroom slippers slipped daintily onto her feet. She clutched her reticule tightly, adjusting her mass of beautiful red ringlets, pinned up on her right side to reveal dangling diamond earrings.

She sighed. Her eye caught the terrace doors, curtains open; the night was peeking in, ready to steal her away. She squeezed the reticule, stepping to the right, thinking of slipping through those doors before anything happened, when there was a knock at the door.

She jumped and padded quickly to the door, jerking it open to take in Draco, blonde hair slicked back in his black tuxedo and shining black shoes, standing, waiting. He held out his hand. She took it, smiling uneasily, and stepped into the hall to descend the stairs, the tinkling of glasses and high laughter already amplified as they neared the ballroom.

The glass French doors fell open as they approached, giving way to the joyous glamour of people milling in their gowns. Ginny blinked. The golden-glass-whiteness of the Manor's ballroom was strikingly bright and beautiful; the more Ginny absorbed the features around her did her mood rise, laughing bubbling, ready to escape in the bottom of her throat. The band had started up, a lively low-tuned waltz of the first set. Draco grabbed Ginny's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor, hugging her perfectly to him as they circled the ballroom, familiar whispers of _one, two three - one, two three_ cool and sweet in her ear, lifting a giggle from her parted lips. As they danced, she kept peering over his shoulder, examining a couple vaguely familiar that were waltzing solemnly, eyes never leaving them.

The boy, perhaps Draco's age, was waltzing with a girl, maybe Ginny's age. The boy, dark skinned with black, soft-looking, short hair danced with the girl, whose pale-skin commented the blue silk dress she wore, meeting perfectly with the soft lightness of her hair, done in bouncing corkscrew curls. They kept glancing at them as they spun, never peeling their eyes from Draco and Ginny. When the waltz was finally over, Draco pulled Ginny into a throng of schoolmates, the couple disappearing. She didn't think again about them until later.

Hours passed. Hours filled with tinkling glasses, stumbling footsteps, set after set of Draco twirling her around the dance floor. Across the room, she saw their mothers; their heads were bent together, whispering profusely. Ginny put up her hand. Narcissa and Molly glanced up, smiled warily at Ginny, before they continued bending their heads, their conversation resuming. Ginny frowned.

She was cuddled up to Draco when it happened, a crowd of Slytherin friends circled 'round them. Everything was fine; she'd just downed yet _another_ flute of champagne when - out of nowhere - the lights went out, only flickering once, before dropping a curtain of darkness over the Manor.

The French entrance doors slammed. Glass shattered. Someone across the room screamed, bright, high, and bloodcurdling. Draco pulled her closer to him, welding against her, backing against the wall. Footsteps shuffled. Panicked voices, rising… rising… Draco stepped away. She felt after him, fear rising uncontrollably.

"Draco?" her voice warbled. "Draco?"

He pressed his lips against hers, squeezing her hands.

"Stay here, I'll be right back."

Her eyes dilated in the steep darkness as she searched for his retreating form, scooting against the wall.

"P-promise?" she whispered, squeezing tightly back in reply.

"I promise you," he affirmed, kissing her a last time before slipping through the ring of trembling Slytherins, round the corner, before the doors clicked and she knew he was gone. Her fingers clawed at the wall. Moments passed, full of panting, shrieking, quiet curses of regretful ness; everyone wanted their wands. A figure drifted up beside her in the dark, face undistinguishable.

"Back," a voice said. Calm, sweet, familiar.

"Draco?" she squeaked. A hand slipped around her waist, pulling her tight to a familiar side, washboard stomach evident beneath a thin tuxedo.

"Let's go," the voice whispered. They turned, him leading, 'round an opposite corner, into a a hall. A door slid open, she stumbled into a chair. A throw pillow padded her head, the velvety softness comforting and familiar. She was in a parlor.

Weight pressed down beside her. Warmth leaned toward her. A hand slid up her side, fingers rough and calloused through the silk.

"Draco?" she whispered, turning to face the figure. Hard lips smashed against hers, hot hands pressing, pushing, stinging burning hot, too hot,. One slid up her dress, tugging at her garters. Another wounding into her hair, holding her down against the cushion with force.

"Draco?" she cried. There was a grunt, a groan in reply. "Who are you? Get off of me! Get off!"

The lights flickered. A flash of dark, short hair, dark skin. She screamed. Something caught her shoulder as she ran. Sharp, searing pain - teeth? A snarl, as she tried to get away. The door was locked the door was locked. She screamed again, pounding her fist into the panels of glass, watching through the dark as it tinkled, sparkled, the light tickle as her hand burst through. A leap, a growl. The couch she'd been on gave a thud as it tipped over, hitting the floor as a raging man leapt out at her.

The scream, the rush of hot air, was caught in her throat as she jerked the knob from the outside, pushing herself stumbling forward into the dark hallway. Blood trickled down her inside forearm as she ran, hot cheeks wet as she smeared it up her elbow. She turned. Where? Lost. Turned again. A glimmer of hope.

The French doors winked in the dark; the much-welcomed scuffling of feet and muffles shrieks in the dark. She burst through; a light flashed in her eyes. She mentally cursed herself, reaching into the reticule strapped to her wrist, pulling out her wand.

"_Lumos."_

Narcissa stepped back in relief, turning away toward the group of ball guests cuddled in the corner. Someone was crying, very softly. Ginny stepped forward, caught Narcissa's arm.

"What's going on?" she whispered. Narcissa took her shoulder gently ass he turned, eyes no longer unfocused but now dark and hard, piercingly black. She brushed a lock of Ginny's hair back to the side of her face slowly, buting time, as she attempted to pull her toward the already-gathered crowd; she didn't budge. Narcissa sighed.

"Well. The lights went out…" she began, and Ginny pictured this.

"Someone arrived through the dark."

The shuffling footsteps.

"Attacked a guard."

The shriek?

"Apparently, this was a signal to two people of the Dark Lord's command, I had foolishly invited."

The dark man? The blonde girl?

"We huddled everyone together."

The group in the corner.

"Guards are stationed at exits and entrances. Oh, this is terrible. I knew it would happen. They're in the Manor. Someone said they saw someone leave the study earlier."

Draco's father's study? From where?

"Oh, Ginny."

She stroked her cheek as Ginny pieced it together.

"Don't you see? They're using this Ball. As a Gathering. They've come to collect sacrifices."

Ginny was quiet as she swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Was it? Were they really? A Gathering? She sobbed aloud. Narcissa hugged her tightly, but abruptly pushed her back, peering over her shoulder in the dim light.

"Where's Draco?"

Ginny sobbed again.

"When the lights went out, he said he'd be right back. He went around the corner. Someone came up; I thought it was him. Oh, Narcissa, it was so bad. It was one of them, I know it was."

Narcissa's grip tightened.

"From where?"

Ginny pointed.

"Somewhere in there. A parlor? Oh, I have to find Draco!"

"Ginny, you mustn't - " Narcissa ordered, but it was too late. Ginny broke free and hurried around the corner Draco had disappeared to, only to see him backed against the wall, struggling and grunting, mumbling, slumped in the corner as a blonde girl pulling something sharp, thin, and pointy from his stomach. As she stumbled against the side wall, an unwelcome shriek filled the ballroom, echoing into the corners. Blaise came around, fear in his eyes.

"Draco?"

The blonde girl spun first on Ginny, the on Blaise, running toward him angrily. Ginny grabbed her arms, pulling her from Blaise to shove her into open territory. A guard appeared. Ginny pointed, panting, at the running figure. Someone jumped on her. From across the room, an angry, ferocious, manly yell filled their ears. The dark man in the tuxedo was sprawled on the center of the dance floor, face first, an arm twisted behind his back. Alicia Spinnett triumphantly pressed his face into the tile, the guards standing nearby. But something else caught everyone's attention.

Light flickered in an opposite corner of the ballroom, giving way to a tall blonde figure that stood atop a buffet table, few other people with dazed looks on their faces huddled obediently at his feet. He clapped, twice, bringing order. Narcissa screamed. Everyone turned to face Lucius Malfoy.

I WAS ALMOST GOING TO CUT IT HERE! BE GLAD I THOUGHT YOU DESERVED IT!lol

Someone in the corner fainted. Lucius smirked, Draco gasped, clutching Ginny close to him. But no amount of coverage could make her feel hidden and clean as he stared down at her, eyebrow raised appreciatively, eyes sweeping down her body slowly and nastily. Ginny spat.

Lucius clapped again. The hall fell remarkably silent, save for few whispers in the corner. Ginny looked around. Where had the guards gone? A voice filled her ears.

"Good evening, my fellow wizards and well-wishers. What a - _wonderful_ - surprise to see you gathered hear for this annual Ball of goodness. May I say it has been an exciting arrangements of sorts, dear wife of mine."

Narcissa, held by two masked men in black, spat at his feet. He ignored her, instead bringing three objects into sight.

"May I welcome you into my home, with the wishes of a happy Yuletide. Your friendship to my wife is thoughtful but unforgivable. You will all pay for bringing yourselves into order beneath my nose, not to mention unfaithfulness to the Dark Lord of whom you swore your trust."

Mothers and Fathers stood proud and angry, glancing from one to the other, while their children looked on in fear and curiosity.

"I'll have you know you have not, under any circumstances, ruined the Dark Lord's plan. Ah, you are in any way to be _thanked_ for this easy distraction for our retrieval."

The three items shook as he shivered. She recognized them almost immediately. The brandi decanter tipped gently in his hand, the crystal winking from nearby wand light. He took a hap hazardous gulp, before holding up the other two items. Ginny groaned, and gasped.

"Here, I have a list of all of your names. You may thank my wife for this, for I found it lying dangerously under a paperweight in the foyer, at the side table. Props to you, dear wife, for making this raid all the more easier."

He dropped the list, and held up the other object. It was in a plastic bag, sealed tightly with a black snake and skull stamped onto it.

"This," he grinned, "would be the main purpose, though. Inside this bag, we have collected exactly what we'd been hoping - some sort of DNA strand for a potion of all causes from a certain person. Yes; inside this bag, would be a lock of beautiful red hair from the Dark Lord's beloved Ginevra Weasley."

She screamed, more enraged rather than scared. Draco held her. Lucius cackled away, collecting his followers.

"Remember the warning," he said pointedly to Draco and Ginny, who trembled unconsciously as the DeathEaters crowded at the back terrace exit. When the crowd had been flocked and scolded for misbehaving, Lucius gave a flourish of his wand; stepped out the door, and was gone. As Draco, wincing and limping, and Ginny, bleeding and gasping, stepped up to the doors followed by Blaise, who panted, they stared up at the sky; looming, in the distance, framed by moonlight, was the sign of the Dark Lord.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Stings Like Fire

If you don't know what it's about by now, you're really screwed, aren't you?

There are probably typos… lots of 'em.

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL INNUENDO . IF YOU AREN'T THE CORRECT AGE, FIND THE 'STARTS HERE' LINE IN BOLD BLACK PRINT, AND SCROLL DOWN UNTIL YOU FIND THE 'ENDS HERE' LINE. THANK YOU.

* * *

The two nurses outside her door murmured quietly as they came down the hall. Ginny sat, knees folded against her chest, a flesh-colored string in her ear as she rested her chin against her knees. The nurses carried on in careful whispers, oblivious that someone would be eavesdropping.

"…it's all okay, his mother's in the library, been locked in there all night long I guess, but we got him stitched up all okay. He was hard givin' in when we first laid him down, butClip gave him the knock out and he didn't even try to rip them out. He'll be good as new in a few minutes, but there'll still be a scar," one nurse relayed to the other.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Narcissa sent us down to check on him. One more little peek, she said. Then it's back to guarding his door."

"It's a shame for the boy."

"The boy _and_ the girl."

"How do you figure?"

"He kept mumbling in his sleep."

Ginny sucked in a breath.

"Really?"

"Yes. Something about that girl, Ginny's her name, and how somehow, he thinks he's failed her or something," she reported.

"Oh. Well."

"Are you ready to go back to his room?"

They were approaching now, their voices slightly louder but farther away as they came closer. Risking her hiding space, she cracked the door, waiting. The second nurse, upon passing, looked down, catching her eye. But instead of stopping, she only nodded, winking discreetly. She took the first nurse's arm, turning to face her.

"Actually… I don't think Narcissa would mind much if we went down and had a cup or two of coffee. I know I need it right about now."

"But didn't you - " the first began, slightly befuddled, but the second cut her off.

"No, I drank it."

"Oh."

"Mm-hmm."

"Well, I could use one now. I seemed to have finished mine already. That's the 2nd cup I've had in an hour… the mug is simply colored with my lipstick, just sitting underneath my watch station sign…"

"Well, I know I could use one."

She nodded at Ginny again, before hooking her arm through her coworker's and leading her back the way they came. Ginny sighed in relief, opening the door as she slipped into the hallway, listening for people. As she descended the stairs and passed the workstation, she stopped; underneath the second nurse's work sign, black and full, was a mug of untouched coffee. She came to his bedroom door, the small crack a hint of carelessness in his attitude. She gently pushed it open, giving way to the gentle sighs of his breathing and all other muffled sounds of his nocturnal chamber.

The light spilled across his gentle figure. His bare chest heaved in sleep, the sleek but craftily carved landscape of it glistened in his sleepy sweat, sloping down to the jagged redness of a new scar. A sharp line of blonde hair trailed down a taut stomach, into the waistband of pajama pants.

His eyes were closed, but the whites of his eyes are barely visible beneath angelic blonde eyelashes that press against the tops of his cheekbones. They flutter as his eyes move back and forth in sleep, in dreams she doesn't know. She examines his face.

She couldn't help but see that it was slightly troubled, his face. The beautiful, well-dreamt nose-eyes-cheeks-lips-forehead-chin. As the eyes flicker his nose, strong and slightly pointed, is still, curving down to lips that are parted barely with quiet sighs, giving way to a sturdy chin that melds around to curved cheekbones and a deep, thoughtful forehead. A sigh escapes as she steps forward to him, closing the door behind her as moonlight leads the way. Silver eyes open, arms pushing down.

STARTSHERESTARTSHERESTARTSHERESTARTSHERESTARTSHERESTARTSHERESTARTSHERE

He sits up. His hands are greedily reaching, curling around her waist as he pulls her over and under, pressing her into a mattress so soft his weight is but barely noticeable. Muscles ripple as an arm curls beneath her head, fingers dusting her temple and the least bare skin as his lips press softly against her own. She pushes back, hard, hands running up the slickness of his chest to his shoulders, fingers grazing his skin in delicious tremors as her greed and pain are transformed. Her finger traces his new scar. Bit by bit his energy returns, slipping his hands around to undo her silk camisole, pressing it down, past thighs and knees, slipping over her feet to be kicked to the floor in a single flourish.

Skin to skin burns incessantly, but it's too sweet to be painful. Shocking coolness clashes with burning heat, smoky steam rising up to mingle in breath as his fingers cross her stomach, grazing her belly button, dipping down and pausing her, still as ever, to teeter on the edge of breath at this hard, unexpected touch. One by one his fingers dip in, disappearing, reappearing, the erotic version of hide and seek. Her pants cross greed and pleasure as she falls limp above his arm, fumbling to catch air s he huskily laughs.

Fingers suddenly abandon their game, travel to breasts, tracing sweet circles that rub her raw in a skin she feels she's never been in. Rough, calloused thumbs print circles and press hard, push her under as mouth takes place, sweet, tantalizing tongue strokes pressing at nervous, taut breasts. He draws away, expels a sweet sigh, cold, icy on this dewy area, emitting a sharp gasp from her mouth. He falls back, Ginny's hands following, slipping beneath his waistband as she slips them over his hips, pushing them into the floor. He slides gently up her body, knee breaking her clamped thighs. Her eyes slam open as loss overwhelms her, mouth parting in pants as he kisses her collarbone, the corners of her mouth.

"Stop?" comes the sharp, waspish question, frantic eyes clouded in lust. Her fingers grab at him, nails grappling to memorize every gloriously sweet crevice.

The junction of her thighs ache. On other nights she would've rolled to her side and clamp her knees hard together, but not this night. She pulls at his shoulders, calling and commanding him in offhand gestures, mouth calling, "please." Hands grip her sides for balance as he puts himself at level with her, hardness ever-pressing, almost…

He ducks his head, hesitating, pressing cold lips to burning skin.

"Please," she says again, eyes beseeching him through fog. He grins, barely, wolfish and tired, but aroused and waiting. He levels up to her again, dips in, drawing out a gasp. Then he ducks down and, all at ones, bites hard into her shoulder as he penetrates the barrier that forever held him out. Her mouth is a round 'o', perfect in shape of shock. He kisses tears that slip away, sadly laps up blood he'd drawn from her shoulder. He's very still, but up to hilt and throbbing, waiting.

She begins to move. Her legs curl around his waist, hands curling back around to grip forearms, then biceps. She pulls up, presses against him, gives a small squeak and falls back into the pillows with a huff. He brushes hair from her temple and draws back out, very slowly, and back in, bit by bit. Her body is nervous, her mind on edge. He draws out, a bit faster, and back in. Again. She groans. He murmurs, grumbles, voice deep and husky. Again. Fingernails cut into his skin. Lips press. Again. Oh, she's gone.. She must be. Never anything so wonderful.

"Faster."

Yes, faster. An act of God in the making, all theirs. She's panting to their rhythm, breathing hard and moans synchronized, oh oh oh. She becomes rigid, cries out, a sharp thrust, a scream. Oh. He dives in again.

"Last time," he says - he's crippled. His body shudders, his eyes roll back, his weight topples her.

"Wonderful," he says. "Beautiful."

ENDSHEREENDSHEREENDSHEREENDSHEREENDSHEREENDSHEREENDSHEREENDSHEREENDS

In the thick silence, all she does is breathe, as he whispers incoherently into her hair. Moments pass until he curls his arms around her and rolls onto his back. He sat, stroking her sides, until she buried her face into his shoulder, body shuddering. Even though the lull, it took him a moment to think - hey - she was laughing!

"Ginny?" he sleepily croaked. She turned her face away, taking a deep breath.

"Yes?" came the quiet, bubbly reply. He lifted his head, running a hand down her bare back.

"What is it?"

She buried her face back into his shoulder, short breaths escaping.

"It's nothing. I'll tell you tomorrow. It's confusing."

He emitted a tired chuckle.

"What about?"

When she lapsed into giggling silence, he figures perhaps she just didn't want to tell him, when she suddenly stopped and sighed into his shoulder.

"Isn't it weird?" she asked, so quiet it was like a whisper.

"Is what weird?"

She laughed again.

"How we went from little teenagers, to these sudden, more mature, worried-sick people. I mean, we were young once. We were _enemies._"

She went back into giggling again, as he thought about it.

"We were, weren't we."

She nodded.

"You were so mean, to me and my brothers."

His face puckered.

"I know."

Then she sniffled.

"I mean, honestly. Who knew under all those threats and snarls, lived a soul that could love?"

Then she laughed.

"I just can't get over it. I feel like I've grown overnight."

He nodded.

"I know how you feel."

She sighed quietly as she rubbed her cheek along his shoulder, closing her eyes.

"I'm sure I do."

The sun pokes barely over the mountains through the black velvet drapes, shedding mellow light on Draco's sweat-streaked back. Ginny hugged him close, pressing her forehead into his shoulder, taking a deep breath. They were silent and still; outside the window, new snow covered the ground. Ginny kissed his shoulder, then his neck, pausing to stare up at him. Through the morning haze, he met her eyes. Her lips parted, gently, to let out a shaking sigh.

"Do you know what I want?" she murmured sleepily.

He eyed her wickedly and grinned, raising an eyebrow, a gesture she hadn't seen in months.

"Darlin', if you let me get my energy back, I'll do my best to give you anything you're achin' for."

She grinned shyly down at his neck. He brushed his fingers against her chin, gently tilting it upwards.

"What is it?" he asked, more serious now. She smiled so softly it was a mere gesture and a breath of air, before she closed her eyes, hugging him close again.

"I just wish you could lay here with me, like this, all day."

He looked down at her, kissing her temple.

"I'll do my best," he replied.

Hours later, she nudged him awake.

"What now?" he grumbled.

"What I would like now, is - "

"What did I tell you about that?" he interrupted slyly, grinning in his sleepy state.

She giggled into the pillow. The clock on the wall struck 11, eleven dings that filled the room of silence. A shiver ran through her. Down the hall, her mother called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Come on," she whined, trying to roll over him.

"What?" he squealed into his pillow, dark eyes barely opening. Her own innocent eyes stared up at him until she pushed gently on his chest.

"I have to pee," she whimpered. He rolled far enough to let her by, picking up his silk bathrobe on the way. She felt the pain in her legs ache, but only yawned as she stepped out the door.

"I'll come after you if you don't come back," he called after her, rolling again into his pillows. "If I don't fall asleep first," he sleepily added. When the door clicked shut, his eyes closed, sealing out noon's light in an opal slumber haze.

* * *

"I spot a rat," came the disgustedly amused voice down the hall.

"'Morning, Pansy," Ginny murmured carelessly, shuffling out of a bedroom in a silk bathrobe, eyes still sleepily squinting as she shuffled across the hall. Pansy's stricken face was unseen as she gaped, rather unattractively, at the redhead who wore Draco Malfoy's black silk robe. She slammed her bedroom door behind her, making the redhead jump.

"W-Weasley?" she stammered, eyes screwed up in confusion. Ginny rubbed her eyes, slightly irritated.

"What?" she snapped back, growling as Pansy's vacant expression closed.

"Nothing."

"Good."

She continued to shuffle down the hall, footsteps wavering slightly as the carpet ended. She gave a little trip that had Pansy cackling madly behind her.

"Shut up, you old cow," Ginny retorted, clutching the robe tighter around her waist. Pansy's lips lit up with a smirk.

"Takes one to know one, Weasley," she snorted. Ginny shook her head, maliciously grinning behind her disheveled curtain of red.

"You say what you are," she shrugged.

Her smirk fell.

"Bitch."

"Whore."

"Bint."

"Wench."

"Fucker."

"Asshole."

Pansy's brain racked for another retort.

"Er… bitch."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"What's the matter Pansy? Ickle bwain all fwull of spiders? Maybe that's why you can't think of a comeback."

Pansy's growl was deep and ferocious.

"You don't belong here."

"Now what have we said about saying things that apply to yourself?"

"Shut up, Weasley. You don't belong here like a skunk in a fox den. You might as well go before someone else throws you out," Pansy sniffed. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"Like who, Narcissa? She's such a doll… I _do_ remember her saying just the other night that she simply adored my mother and I… and I _do_ recall her mentioning to Draco what a sweet and lovely _bride_ I'd be. I don't know why you're here, Pansy, but I'll assure you that it isn't for Draco's company," she sniffed.

At least we hope, a voice in her head growled.

Shut up, she told it. Pansy's face grew pale and pinched. A brief sheet of grief spread over her face, before she swiped it away with a hand that brushed her confused, fluttering eyelashes.

"I don't know what Draco sees in you. You're a nothing, Weasley. That's all you are, if anything. A nothing. So why don't you take your skanky ass down to breakfast for a last meal before I throw you out."

Ginny looked at her, eyebrow raised. She felt a giggle bubble in her throat, and before she could help it, burst into laughter, cackling and snorting as she keeled over onto her knees, hands over her mouth as her eyes watered with mirth. Pansy, very surprised and somewhat embarrassed, rushed back up the hall, turned, and slipped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Ginny, face red, continued to cry with laughter, but stopped making noise besides the hiccups issuing from her open mouth. Somewhere down the hall, Harry blundered from a door and made his way up the hall, smirk carefully fading from his face as he approached her.

"Ginny?"

She squeaked in reply, hiccupping again, as she turned to face him with tear-strewn cheeks.

"Oh, God, Ginny, I'm sorry - er - I didn't know, I was just going to say hey, but - are you alright? What happened?"

Her eyes widened.

"Oh, no, Harry - it's not what you think - I just came back from Draco's room, but I ran into Pansy - such a funny little bitch - and some words were exchanged."

She hiccupped rather loudly. Harry jumped at the sound. His face reddened slightly.

"Well - er - so you've come back from his room? Well, er - are you doing anything tonight? Would you like to go to town with me on a - uh - date?" he spluttered, face coloring deeply with a maroon that would put Uncle Vernon's to shame. Ginny looked up at him, shocked, a million thoughts flitting through her head. She pictured Harry's lusting, dangerous eyes in the dark that one afternoon, locked in a closet where her screaming couldn't help. She shivered, afraid.

Go. You can take care of business, Ginny. Go, and see what happens. You need that baby. Without that baby, you couldn't have Draco, remember? And if anything, you need him more.

But what would he say? What would he say when I walk back in there and tell him I'm going out with Harry? He'd never let me explain!

Make him wait, tell him what you've got to do tonight and wait for him to understand. It's now or never, Ginny.

Harry had begun to fidget nervously at the time she was taking. Noticing she was staring she immediately averted her gaze, stammering convincingly.

"Er - I - uh - I'm not doing anything - but - I'd - I'd like to go," she mumbled, looking up at him with false happiness. His face brightened, and he quickly slipped into a dashing smile.

"Well, good. Your Mum said you'd be back with her around 8ish, so I s'pose we'll go then?"

She shrugged, wiping her face.

"Sounds lovely. I'll be here."

"Grood. Er - good. And great. Great and good," he spluttered. She grinned, watching his back in a very confused manner as he walked back down the hall, a chilling bounce in his step that made her slightly queasy.

* * *

She stepped up to the door, pressing her cheek against the coolness of the wood. She sucked in a breath and pushed it open, stepping inside and closing it quickly. Draco lifted his head, eyed her for a moment, and then rested it back on the pillow, smirking slightly.

"I think I like you better in my clothes," he snickered, and she rolled her eyes, swallowing, leaning against the door.

Silence struck as a moment passed. Then two. He stared at her.

"What is it?" he finally asked, lifting his head again to take her in, in her nervousness.

"Don't be mad," she murmured, shifting her eyes to the floor.

"About what?"

"I did what I had to do," she said, ignoring him.

"What did you do that you had to do?" he asked, confused.

"When he asked, I said yes, like a good girl," she carried on.

He stopped, and stared at her. Finally, he sat up, pulling the covers around him.

"So, Pothead asked you on a date," he said slowly, looking at the carpet, "and you said… you said yes?"

She nodded dumbly, before he looked up at her, shock and a slight anger very aware on his face.

"So you just fucking jumped the gun, no plan at all, without even discussing this with me before you answered?" he raged, his face flashing.

She pressed her back against the door, hand curling around the knob.

"It's my body. I did what I had to do."

"'What you had to do'? You know another thing I think you had to do?"

"What, bow down before you, almighty Draco, ruler of people lesser than him?" she snarled, now angry.

"No, you were supposed to fucking _ask_."

"I never had to ask anyone and you know it."

"Oh, I do, do I?"

"Stop making up the rules as you go along! I did my part, all by my lonesome, and you can't even say, 'Good job, Ginny' like I made a total fool of myself. If you can't support me on this, then fuck you!" she cried, opening the door and stomping out.

He laid back on his bed, head spinning. He knew he shouldn't have fought with her. Now he'd just have to wait until she came back.

* * *

There was a knock. A frilly, stiff-blonde haired head poked through the widening crack, her body following. She frowned, closing the door behind her, and tilted her head.

"Why so glum?" she inquired, announcing her unknown presence. Draco sat up abruptly, only to find it wasn't Ginny as he'd presumed.

"No reason," came the lifeless reply. He scratched his bare chest and laid back on the bed, ignoring the snort of disbelief she uttered as she made her way across the room towards his bed.

"That can't be. Why are you upset? You can't lie to me," she said, falling onto her back next to him.

"Of course I can. I've done it all my life," he sniffed indifferently. She shook her head.

"You think so unnaturally, Draco," came the sighed murmur. He shrugged limply.

"I never said you had to believe me," he shot carelessly. There was a great pause when he rolled slightly to face her.

"Have you found love yet, Pans?"

She didn't reply. After a moment of quiet breathing, she rolled to answer, half shrugging.

"I did. Well, for a little while. It turns out he was just a jackass, an egotistical maniac, and only kept me for a decent fuck. It's not really any different than other guys, I guess. It's hard to find much with my well-earned reputation," she sighed. He glared at her suspiciously.

"And who was this person?" he murmured, raising a disturbed eyebrow. She closed her eyes, a faint smile pulling at her lips.

"It was Potter," she whispered, the faint smile pulling into a lazy grin. Draco's face pulled into shock and horror.

"Potter? What the hell?" he cried in shock, sitting up straight. "Why Potter?"

"Why not? Why Ginny?" she snapped, narrowing her eyes. They hardened.

"Ginny's different," he replied coolly. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on. That's bull."

"Shut up, Pansy," came the muttered growl.

"Only when you tell me why. Why was it her? We were doing so _well_, Draco. Then you… changed."

He shrugged once again, staying silent.

"I love her," he whispered. Pansy's eyes teared angrily.

"You loved me too."

He looked away.

"Like I said, Ginny's different."

She shook her head.

"You're different."

He nodded in solemn agreement.

"And I like it."

"You don't even have a problem with it?"

He shook his head. Her tears spilled over her carefully rimmed eyeliner and splashed down her cheeks.

"Then why do you have a problem with Harry? Why don't you have a problem with Ginny too?"

He turned to glare.

"Well?"

"Pansy - "

"You're not still ego-tripping, are you? God, Draco, get over it! He may be your rival, your sworn enemy, or whatever, but you can't fucking hate him forever!"

His rage flickered.

"He's the stupidest fucker I know, Pansy. He's so nasty it makes my stomach twist. The way he prances around with those two idiots of his, and sucks up to all the teachers and staff - ugh - and not to mention his sap story! You'd think people would get over it by now! Besides, he's dangerous, Pans! He tried to rape Ginny!"

"But you don't know who he really is, Draco," she whined.

"Neither do you really know Ginny," he said softly. She snorted disgustedly.

"That old rat? I wouldn't _want_ to know her."

"Just as I really don't want a heart-to-heart with Pretty-Boy-Potter unless it involves me ripping it out through his chest," he growled. There were scuffing steps down the hall. He sat up, alert, hoping once again it was Ginny.

"Forget it, Draco. Heartless bitches don't deserve you."

"Ah, a word from the wise. You are what you say," he retorted. She recoiled, barely hurt after intercepting the very same line just before.

"That was cold," she growled. He lifted one shoulder, still staring at the door.

"So's your heart."

"Speak for youself," she scoffed.

"Oh, but I do," came the arrogance. Her eyes narrowed again.

"I hate you," she sniffed coldly.

"Ditto."

Silence.

There was creaking of his bedsprings as she sat up beside him. Then, catching him completely off guard, she hugged him hard, pressing her face into his shoulder. He draped an arm carefully around her shoulder, patting her back awkwardly.

"There, there, Pansy… just - er - suck it up, you'll be fine…" he murmured, giving her a slightly hard pat.

"No it won't, not ever! You don't know how he is! How it is, or how it feels to deal with someone like him! I loved you, Draco! He doesn't love me like you did!" she wailed.

He shook his head.

"I loved you, once," he shrugged, "You can't let grudges from the past press into your future, Pans." Her rage surged.

"You love me! I know you do!" she shrieked. Outside, scuffling footsteps hurried down the hall.

"Ginny," he whispered. Pansy growled.

"I hate her! She stole my life! I hate her!" she roared, and very suddenly, before he could react, he was flat on his back, lips pressed against his mouth, lush body parts in all the right places… he moaned…

"Pansy?" a voice crowed weakly, high-pitched and sad.

The door cracked against the wall as it was pushed further open. A shriek of pain and anger.

"You double-faced ferret!" she screamed. "I can't believe you! I should've known all along! How could you? How _could_ you?" she wailed, quite complicatedly pulling her wand out of the many folds of silk and hexing wildly, hitting Draco twice in one flick. Pansy emitted a shrill squeak and fell backwards off the bed, Draco himself angry and panicking as his legs wobbled uncontrollably and he felt the great, horrid black things flapping on his face. He knew he'd been hit by Ginny's notorious Bat-Bogey Hexes and a horrible Jelly-Legs Jinx. He growled furiously and fumbled blindly for his wand, but it still took nearly 20 minutes to find out what was wrong with Pansy.

"Ginny?" he finally called, sprinting down the hall. "Ginny?"

Narcissa suddenly appeared in a doorway.

"Draco!" she scolded.

Paying no mind to his mother's temper, he searched the hall with his eyes.

"Mother, have you seen - "

"Draco! I'm so ashamed of you!" she cried in disbelief, anger flitting simultaneously into her voice.

"I - what?" he said slowly, brows puckered.

"How could you do that to Ginny? Such a sweet little peach, quite looking forward to having her around…" she added in as an afterthought.

"Mother, what?"

She stopped.

"She said she caught you and that - ugh - _horrid_ Parkinson girl going at it, or some such nonsense. Hexed you both, she said, then bumped into me. She asked me to get you, but unfortunately, Molly had to take her back to the Burrow for this afternoon - something about her father? - and won't be back until after her date."

"Date? What date?" Draco demanded, eyeing her angrily.

She blanched.

"You didn't know? She said something about you having to understand - something about a mission? I don't know. Molly's dropping her back off here at eight. She's going on a date with Potter, I suppose," she shrugged.

Draco pressed himself to the wall, head throbbing, hands in his hair. He looked up at his mother, who looked very angry and disturbed.

"Well?" she spluttered, hands on her hips as she tapped her foot impatiently.

"Well what?" he replied wearily, sliding down to sit on the floor.

Narcissa stared at him.

"What did you do?" she crowed.

He let out a mingled sigh and growl.

"Pansy came in," he mumbled. "She went on into all this bogus about her and Potter. Starts wailing, so I did the civil thing, tried to cheer her up. So she throws herself at me, just as Ginny opens up the door and hexes the hell - sorry - heck out of both of us. Then runs off, before I have a chance to even explain."

Narcissa shook her head.

"I don't even know why you let her in, Draco. You and I both know she's nothing but trouble, and still you let her in. I don't know if you're my son," she muttered. Draco rolled his head around on his neck.

"I'm going back to bed," he mumbled, getting up off the floor. "Wake me up 'round eight."

"Alright."

* * *

Wake up, said a voice. He was dreaming in nightmares again; a screaming Ginny and a demon baby boy. Blaise cackling madly away as Harry worked mechanically over Ginny, pink sweater muffling screams as burning, razor-blade fingers bit into her skin, while all he could do was watch on from a block of ice, frozen to the spot. The very tears he seemed to cry froze in droplets, each one only hindering escape.

Draco, someone whispered. He whimpered in his frozen state, trying to withdraw himself.

Wake up, lazy, it said, a little louder, shaking him angrily. Searing pain shot through him as Blaise wrapped his slender fingers around Draco's wrist, concentrating hard, squeezing slightly on two veins. His eyes shot open upon the pain, vision blurry with cold tears. He looked up at Blaise, who stared down at him before quickly slipping to the door. As Draco rolled out of bed, Blaise tossed him pants, a shirt, a cloak, and a sack of galleons, opening the door for him.

"There's a cab outside," he whispered, as they shot stealthily down the hall.

"If you were smart, you'd follow her to wherever they're going," he said now. Draco felt his skin prickle as he woke more to the early night. As he slid into the cab, his eyes fixed on Blaise in front of them, face easily lit up by ghostly headlights. Draco nodded to Blaise, who smiled grimly. As the cab pulled out of the loop, Draco braced himself.

"Here it comes," he whispered. He knew he'd be jealous. He'd be jealous and confused. And angry. He'd say things he didn't mean. But it wasn't his fault. It was his heart.

He watched from the taxi. It wasn't nice, no, it wasn't very civil and it wasn't right to spy. But he was so miffed, so _pissed,_ he had to know. He had to watch. Potter was a fucking stupid idiot to have enough ego to ask out _his girl, even if it was for their lives, _and even bigger of an idiot to take her to Muggle London for some sort of _date._ He hadn't gone in when they went to dinner, he hadn't gone in when they went to the bar, but after the bar, he needed to know where they'd go; what would happen. And where they went made him so fucking angry, so fucking jealous, so fucking _hurt (not that he'd admit)_ that he watched from the car as the window portrayed everything. The flipping of the light switch, the luminous red of her cheeks as she blushed and he knew she was scared of Harry. After all, Draco himself had been the only man she'd ever 'been' with, so Potter was surely no match, right? Jesus, it was so fucking cold - stupid fucking Potter.

There was the slight anger but entertainment as he offered her wine - which he knew she hated, especially red wine, it was the color of blood to her - and then the twisting, blinding white-hot ferociousness in stomach that leapt at his insides and had him twisting his jacket as Harry reached down, with the slightest hesitant pause, and cupped her chin in his hand. He said something, perhaps flattery was how he'd get beneath her skin, he didn't know, but either way she blushed a bit and turned her head, looking through the window, right into his eyes. Sudden shock and unbidden thoughts flurried through her head, and he turned away, afraid she'd know he was spying. By the time he'd turned back around Potter was upon her, arms circling her waist and drawing up her dress - ugh. Damn Potter.

Coming out of my cage

And I've been doin' just fine

Gotta gotta be down

Because I wanted it all

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss

It was only a kiss

There was a fleeting moment when he saw her in his mind, the day he'd kissed her for the first time. They were on the train, then; the Trio standing, angrily, shocked outside the door, watching as he moved forward, Ginny's eyes slightly closed and then - he saw them again, not long after, in the North Tower. He was scolding her for something or other, when he saw her brother lunge at her - Draco dove towards him, fists raised, fear rising as she slid, almost unconscious, down the wall… head bleeding, eyes half lidded… he shuddered at her pain. And then he saw them, not far back, just before he told her who she was to him… there was fear in her eyes, still donned in her black dress, red curls tousled … she'd told him she hadn't wanted him to die, and she'd take what was thrown, just for his sake… why did Pansy have to show up when she did?…

Now I'm falling asleep

And she's calling a cab

While he's having a smoke

And she's taking a drag

Now they're going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it's all in my head

But she's touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now

Letting me go

He chanced a glance up at the window and almost instantly regretted it, his gut burned so bad. They were glued together by the face, Ginny's eyes closed, dress halfway down her hips, her hands on his shoulders - but he notices, with a sudden pang of something that was pride, that the name she whispered during their rendezvous wasn't _Potter's…_ he tilted his chin defiantly as Potter jerked his head up, curiosity brewing. She shook her head and stammered some excuse, but he knew it was true… no one could make her feel like that… no one but him… his stomach curled again, but in sickness. Her dress was gone, completely deserted, and he could tell he was backing her toward the bed… but she stopped, so suddenly, hands on his chest, and told him to slow down, to _wait_… he turned his head.

And I just can't look

It's killing me

And taking control

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

I'm coming out of my cage

And I've been doin' just fine

Gotta gotta be down

Because I want it all

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss

It was only a kiss

Now I'm falling asleep

And she's calling a cab

While he's having a smoke

And she's taking a drag

Now they're going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it's all in my head

But she's touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now

Letting me go

He looked up, looked up at the window, and realized with a sudden dawning that it was over, and she was standing in her underwear at the window, crying… Potter sat up, shocked but angry, screaming at her to come back to bed… she ignored him, dressed, and walked out the door without so much as a goodbye…

"Back up some, driver. Go 'round the block, but make sure that we arrive in front of this hotel. When a redheaded girl in a black dress calls for a cab, make sure you get there," he instructed. The driver looked up and nodded, taking care to speed through every car and pull back in about a half a block from the hotel, just as she arrived through the entry doors.

'Cause I just can't look

It's killing me

And taking control

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

I never

I never

I never

I never

The driver's sudden moving brought him back as he finished the song in his head, fingers still clutching his jacket and body trembling with anger. She raised her hand and waved it, hailing a cab, and he was pleased to find that the driver pulled right in, waiting for her to slip in on the other side, and give her destination, the small village just ahead on the road to the Manor…

When the cab pulled out, she looked out the window, sighing mournfully and thumping her head on the glass. She muttered sadly to herself, crying silently, before she looked up at Draco's sudden uncomfortable rustle, and saw his platinum blond hair…

"Draco?" she said, more in surprise and shock than curiosity, jumping slightly and making to wipe her cheeks free of tears. He snorted.

"Fat lot of good that did. Have fun screwing Potter?" he drawled, carefully filtering the anger from his voice. Her head snapped around, staring at him in horror.

"I - I don't know - know what you're talking about," she said, straightening her spine as her eyes continued to tear.

He scoffed.

"Don't fucking lie, Ginny. I saw," he said quietly. "I saw you go up there with him, and I saw it happen. You can't run away from it."

She sat silently, pressing herself against the door.

"Draco, you don't understand - "

"Oh, shut it. I fucking understood. Which part couldn't I have understood? The part where I loved you? Or the part where you fucked him? Or, wait, the part where he tried to rape you awhile ago? God, Ginny, which fucking part do I have to fucking understand?" he roared, turning to face her and screaming. She cowered against the door, the odd-shaped bruises on her head just blooming before his eyes. He turned in his seat, and reached shakily out toward her, fingers brushing the side of her face where the skin was so soft she winced at his touch, and the odd, beautiful pale skin was purpling and blacking with contusion. He choked a sob.

"The part where it saves your life!" she screamed right back, hands clawing his shoulders as she scrabbled to hold him.

"Oh, God, Ginny…" he whispered, arms curling around her as he whispered nothing into her ear, her hands eagerly grabbing his jacket as she buried her head in his shirt.

"What happened? Oh, God, Ginny… what happened? What did he do to you?" he cried in disbelief, pushing her jacket off her arms and seeing the finger marks and red around her wrists and forearms, the blood red jumping out like the purple from the white milkiness. She sobbed again.

"Oh, oh! I didn't - I didn't want to! I swear I didn't - God, I don't know what I wanted - but I didn't want him! Not 'til had to! I didn't want that! I just wanted to get everything over and go, after what I saw - I just wanted - wanted someone there - I didn't think it would go that far - oh! Please don't be angry, Draco, you're the only person I love, I'd never love him, never!" she whimpered, fingers still curled around his jacket.

"Shh, I'm not mad, calm down - Merlin, what the hell happened up there? What the hell did he do to you?"

She hiccupped several times and wiped her face on his t-shirt, forced breathing into his shoulder.

"We - we went to dinner, we drank some - we went to a bar, we drank some more - he said he had a room, it was too late to go back - I followed, I had nowhere to go - we - we got up to the room, and he said I was beautiful, the only girl he'd ever wanted, and I _b_-_believed_ him… things got far and I wanted to stop, to slow down, but he heard your name and got angry… I t-told him I wanted to l-leave, I didn't want to stay, but he wouldn't let m-me go! H-he pulled off my dress and pushed me back to the bed and I fought, I swear! I punched and kicked and bit but he wouldn't let go, he said I wouldn't slip this time… he held me down and smacked me around a few times to shut up… it hurt so bad, it was nothing like us…"

She paused, eyes widening fearfully as she saw his angry face, his malicious grin floating above her head as she screamed…

"T-then, it was over… I didn't want to stay, I was afraid… I went to the window… he was yelling at me, screaming to come back to bed, someone came to our door… I dressed and left as soon as I could, I was afraid… God, I was so stupid… but I couldn't believe I betrayed you like that… I couldn't believe anything, I couldn't even think…"

She buried her face back in his shirt.

"At least it's over, Draco. At least it's done. Or at least I hope so. I don't want to ever do that, ever again… and I'm sorry," she whispered, her body's quaking residing slightly as they grew ever farther from the hotel. "I'm sorry."

He hugged her tight, shifting slightly to rest his back against the window. _At least it's over._ God, it better be. Her breathing slowed, barely. She was sleeping. Resting. He was glad.

* * *

There you go, peoples. Another long chapter. Hope you enjoy it - toot-les.

Gabrielle Howell.

Again, any questions? Email I shall answer them a.s.a.p.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Title: **_Stings Like Fire_

**Author:** _Me. With J.K.'s help._

**Summary:** _Oh, please. If you don't know it yet, don't read it. _

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A/N: Thank all of you absolutely for your concern with Ginny and Draco and all that jazz, and for your support and urges for me to pursue this next chapter.**

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But **first**, I have a message: 

**Silver Arrow -** _You are so right. And I understand that, totally. I also understand that your reviewis only constructive criticism, that I can choose to ignore or mold into my plotline. I do understand that it has been rushed to some extent, but it all melds with time, understand. Also understand that it's very hard for someone of my stature to keep their grades up, maintain a normal lifestyle, while also continuing this fiction in secret. (My parents have no respect for Harry Potter, or my involvement in it). By your comment, you have told me that by forcing my fiction into public such as this, I have to accept public criticism with open arms, because that is what I agreed to; but while I agree to your comment, I disagree. I accept criticism openly with a positive attitude. But if you don't like the rushed-ness of it, the way I write, or my beaten, deflated potential, you don't have to read it. There are plenty more fish in the sea. I recommend Flight of the Thestrals. It's crazy good. Much better than mine. _

Also, about Draco and Ginny's personality changes: Ginny is only a 16 year old girl, with barely any past of love. It's fairly easy to understand from her perspective how easy it would be to fall in love, especially with a bully such as this, because if you've ever had any experiences when you're with someone that people don't accept, especially not of your kind and someone your friends don't like, it's very easy and invigorating to be with that person… almost forbidden, to some extent. This is what Ginny feels. Draco, on the other hand, is much more difficult to understand: he started out in the beginning just wanting to make her brother and his friends pissed, but after awhile became very attracted to her. With attracted, he lusted, dreamt, wanted… and within time's capacity learned that he did care for her in some way. It also hints, in Draco's brief past, that he has had pain, and love for his mother, hatred for his father: he has to exert his feelings somewhere. And also, I didn't say he stopped being a hard ass. He's still a hard ass. He's just sort of soft in Ginny's presence. Plus, Draco's mushiness cues in later on in the plotline.

I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just trying to get you to know where I'm coming from. I'm working on getting better. Thank you for your message ;)

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**Okay folks. Just some go-ahead messages, to thwart oncoming flames:**

**Never been pregnant, don't know the schedule, nor do I know what it's like. Or want to until I'm like, 25. Don't yell.**

**I'm also under the impression that yes, I know, the time-scale thing is totally fucked. I'm trying to get it back on track. Until then, you'll just have to deal with the fucked-up timeline as well as the fucked-up plotline. :P**

**Also: There's probably alot of typos. Lots lots lots.**

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A day passed. Ginny's eyes shot open, sitting up in abrupt shock, her body tense and slightly sore, but no bruises were visibly evident. With startling pain at her temple, she saw it all: the ride in the taxi, their conversation; him carrying her from the car, cleaning her off; them together… she closed her eyes and pulled the comforter around her, reaching for a piece of parchment places craftily on her lap, so she looked down at it as she sat up. Draco's hurried calligraphy scrawled across the paper, in a short, crisp message:

_Sleep well? I hope so._

_Don't eat until I get back._

_I have a surprise._

_-Draco_

She gave a small smile and dropped the parchment, just as a loud knock penetrated the wood. Panicked at her mother's voice calling her name, she tightened her comforter.

"Yes?" she replied, her voice strangled.

"Pack your things, Ginevra," she ordered.

"Where are we going?" she asked, suddenly startled . Her mother gave sharp silence, so cold that everything she'd been cleverly hiding rose to the surface; the baby. Draco. Harry. The Dark Lord; Lucius. The Death Eaters. School. Pansy. The Man. She trembles in her presence, palms sweating profusely.

"To see your father," she answered pointedly, referring to Ginny's dad, who had left after only an hour of visiting them, and was now in overtime at the Ministry. Ginny heard her leave the door. She stared at her trunk, numerous items piled around the room already. She packed quickly, before she went to look for Draco, only to frown upon Blaise, seated in the plush chair of Lucius's study.

"Looking for someone?" Blaise inquired casually, marking his place to look up from his book - _Biwizard Days - _to stare at her.

"Well… have you seen Draco?"

He pushed his book gently aside, round, bright eyes cool and calm as they gazed up at her. Upon registering her question, he blinked.

If I remember correctly, he went to the Ministry. Questioning, he said."

Ginny nodded, frowning, slow and sad. He blinked up at her again.

"Is there something wrong? Something you could talk to me about?" he prodded delicately, turning to her as she stared out, unfocused, as if in DreamLand.

"Why, I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she murmured, her voice soft and angelic; dreamy as she turned to exit.

"If you're sure," he called after her, picking his book back up. In the hall, he could barely hear her answer.

"Sure as ever."

* * *

When Draco came in, the house was empty. Ball guests who'd stayed against their better judgment had packed a left in a hurry. Her family, who has been everywhere, it seemed - had cleared out, leaving the Manor silent and still on its foundation. He shed his cloak and started up the steps, hoping, maybe, to find her where he left her that morning; all cream and limbs and black blankets, everything he'd been dreaming and thinking of all throughout the questioning. He took the stairs two at a time, cutting across the hall to nudge open the door. As he entered the room, he kicked of his shoes and flipped on the light, only to come face to face with an empty, made up bed, a clean room, and a white piece of parchment. 

_Draco,_

_I'll owl you later._

_Love,_

_Ginny._

He dropped the paper, mouth a grim line, and walked down to the study through the solid dark, to the red chair. He was _about _to sit in it when a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

"Ah, so you've _finally_ come around, haven't you?" it said in an amusedly bored voice. Draco jerked up in surprise, turning slowly on Blaise, who smirked down at his book, which he turned side to side in curiosity. Draco rolled his eyes.

"You wish," he grumbled.

Blaise sighed, turning his book, raising his eyebrows as he examined it closely.

"Damn. You get my hopes up every time," he said in mock disappointment. He turned the book again. A moment passed as Draco attempted to read the title, before he cleared his throat and redirected his gaze elsewhere.

"Uhm, you haven't seem Gin anywhere, have you?"

Blaise looked up.

"She came looking for you, all in this weird state. I told her where you were, and then she left. I s'pose she went with her Mum and them."

Draco scowled, and sighed deeply, before he edged slowly to the doorway.

"Well, I'll be in my room. No bothers, Blaise. Knock my smock, I'll clean your clock," he threatened quietly, running a finger over the scar on his side, where he knew it was beneath his silk shirt. Blaise didn't even look up.

"So you tell me every time, but do I ever get punished? No. Damn you, Draco Malfoy, with your improper promises. How come everyone's clocks get cleaned but mine?" he inquired, turning his book. Draco only shook his head, smirking, and closed the door.

* * *

The train ride from the Ministry two weeks later was silent, lonely, and boring. In her head, she knew students were on their way back to the castle. That in hours, she would be too. She stared at her suitcase in occult solitude, shocked and slightly scared. She'd just returned from the bathroom. Bringing out her calendar, she checked the 'X' from a week ago. She flipped back to last month's, and the month's before that, sitting back in her seat. 

Oh, Merlin, she thought, eyes wide. She faintly remembered bits of Voldemort's message strung together, the same persistent hissing in her ear…

"When you are with child and have given birth, we shall take it in return for Draco's life. If you run, we will find you."

Pulling out a parchment, Ginny scribbled something small and discreet in the middle. She didn't sign her name, or put any address on it. She sent it from the window.

Ginny clutched her cloak as the train slid to a halt. Looking out the window, London loomed around her. Through her distinct haze, she knew to run. Cautiously, she slipped down from the train with her trunk, praying she still remembered the way…

Yes. This was most definitely it. Eyes darting from side to side, she stood calmly between 11 and 13, closing her eyes.

12 Grimmauld Place, London.

When she opened her eyes, her stomach clenched as she tapped the door with her wand. Entering the house, dark and cold hit her simultaneously. Putting her trunk aside, she looked around. The kitchen was empty and cobwebbed. The dining room was dark and smelled of a faint odor. The hideous elf heads still remained in the hall, as did the awful troll-leg umbrella stand. But as she moved further down the hall, she noticed - the curtains on the wall were gone - Sirius's mother's portrait. She wondered when. Dark swarmed like angry pixies. Pointing her wand at the chandelier, its cobwebs glowed. Shivering, she lifted her trunk and ascended the steps.

* * *

Draco tossed and turned. Rolled onto his side, then rolled back reflexively, the slight twinge of pain on his abdomen angrily burning as his weight rolled to that side. He squeezed his eyes shut, lying on his back. A moment passed. He took a deep breath to calm himself, but he could smell Ginny's faint scent of soap. He sat up abruptly, angry. Scrambling to his window, he pulled the owl in by its talon, ripped the paper off, and let it go. Settling back in bed with the scrap, he slowly unfolded it and let his eyes feast upon the one line he knew she'd written. ****

"I can't run, but I can hide."

He stared down at it, letting it register in his head.

She's going to hide, he thought to himself, almost chuckling aloud. _She wouldn't._

he thought to himself, almost chuckling aloud. 

But the harder he thought about it, he realized how angry it made him that his father had put her into such a deep well of cowardice such as this. And then, as he closed his eyes to think, he got a weird, gut-wrenching feeling.

Tearing himself out of bed, he didn't bother to put on a shirt as he stomped barefooted out into the cold snow, around the back of the house, into his Father's old abandoned pool house, where his Father had stayed while his Mother and Father were fighting. After awhile he permanently moved in, until he was arrested.

Swinging open the doors, he half expected Lucius to be sitting there on the sofa, leg crossed over, hand contentedly placed on his knee while the other held a crystalline glass of sloshing brandy. Draco stopped short, taking everything in. Then, moving with ease he slipped through the little living room area, to the bedroom. Dropping down on his knees before the fire, he tossed a handful of Floo powder from the mantel, when he called out the specific place, he stuck his head in the fire. The pale, peaked face peered through the greasily-parted curtain upon being called.

"Mr. Malfoy," he drawled, leaning back in a blue armchair by the fireplace.

"Professor Snape," Draco greeted with just as much enthusiasm.

* * *

Ginny laid in the bed she occupied back in the day, staring up through the dark at the dirty ceiling. She rolled awkwardly onto her side, staring at the door. She had lit every light in the house, but still the gloom seemed endless and sticky, hiding beneath the bed and in distant corners, blending with the shadows. It was scary, here by herself, especially when her memory still dwelled on having someone sleeping beside her, and being in this house with other people, never alone. Now she was a single visitor in an old, empty, abandoned house, nowhere else to go. 

She stared at the gentle yellow stripe at the bottom of the door, surrounded by the blackness of her bedroom. She sat up, feet falling to the cold wood floor. As she pulled the light blanket she packed around her shoulders, she opened the door, squinting out into the light as she mentally weighed her options of exploring the house.

Up the steps she went, down another deserted hallway that she'd never been to. Wand in hand, she lit every torch she came to, leaving dusty dark footprints on the untouched floorboards. She passed door after door, each knob unturnable, no matter how many spells she cast at it. Continuing down the hallway, she stopped when another set of footprints appeared before her, from out of nowhere. Carefully following this new, odd set, she ascended the hallway slowly, coming to a series of odd-shaped doors, some black, some blue, a green or red one here or there. At the end, a slightly rounded, gray door stood ominously in her presence, the silver, shining doorknob winking gently at her.

She approached it with caution, pale fingers tingling as they wrapped around the doorknob in wonder. Hand turning unconsciously, the door fell open at her fingertips, stopping abruptly to reveal a slightly darkened room, covered in dust. Two windows were cracked to air the room, uncurtained so the moonlight fell in softly, cold air drifting to ruffle the edges of a white sheet draped over an armchair before a tall, white-covered object. Curiosity overcoming her, she entered the room and approached the object, pulling gently at the white sheet. As it fell to the floor, she dragged her fingertips over the smooth, reflective glass, peering into her own ghostly reflection.

Stepping away from the object she clutched her wand, staring.

Before her, uncovered and in one piece, uncracked and perfect, was the Mirror of Erised.

* * *

"Well?" Snape drawled lazily, suppressing a yawn as the night went on. 

"I have a funny feeling," he said.

"You called for me in the middle of the night to tell me about some childish funny feelings?"

Draco blanched slightly when he realized how stupid he sounded.

"Never mind. I'll deal with it," he said after a moment, preparing to pull his head back through the fire, when Snape held out a hand.

"Stay. Your 'feeling' might come in handy in the future, knowing you. But I swear, if it's just some teenage hormone of yours raging, you can pull your head right back through there."

Draco nodded.

"So tell me."

Sitting back on his haunches with his head still in the fire, Draco began to tell his trustworthy family friend and professor about an inside nagging he'd been getting lately.

"It's like, since she's away, something terrible's going to happen. I feel like every time I stop to think, someone's got her in a closet with a knife to her throat, and all is lost," he said, not bothering to mention the letter he'd just received, which had helped the feeling occur.

Snape examined him closely.

"Do you feel it often? Or only when you think deeply about it?"

Draco stared absently at the opposite wall.

"I feel it in my dreams. When I sleep. When I see her, sometimes. When she's away. When she suddenly disappears. I don't like it at all."

He stared at Draco with such an intensity Draco looked up.

"It's stupid, I know. But I can't get it to go away. It's like every time I see her in my dreams, this weird, suffocating feeling overcomes me and I see her, bound up and in chains, with someone standing over her."

Snape nodded.

"Is it mostly in your dreams? Or mostly in life?"

Draco thought about it.

"Mostly in my dreams when I see it. Then it gets cold and I can't breathe, and I wake up in sweat."

Snape nodded again, unnerving Draco. While Draco stared at him, Snape mentally noted himself to call on Dumbledore: to him, Draco's "funny feeling" had turned into something much more dramatic.

Finally, he met Draco's gaze.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, if I were you I wouldn't ponder the thought too deeply. Aggravating such a sore as this could lead to something fairly dangerous. It could possibly just be your male instincts kicking in, finally."

Draco shot him a look.

"Or," Snape continued, unfazed, "it could be your element finally showing itself in your lifestyle. Extremely natural."

He nodded as Snape told him this, then sighed. Snape stood up.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some unattended business calling me into the office. Do not dwell on this, Draco. Putting too much thought on a feeling such as this could lead to something you are totally unprepared for. Good night."

Then, with a flick of his finger, the fire went out. Draco had to jerk his head abruptly backward to miss getting his head stuck in the Floo Network.

As he sat back on the sooty hearth, staring into the fire still blazing in the bedroom, he thought about what Snape had said, and about Ginny's lack of communication over the last two weeks, until this last little scrap. He ran his finger over the crease gently.

Laying back on his Father's old bed, he hugged a pillow to his chest, realizing how much her presence next to him in his dreams affected him daily. He squeezed it to his chest, lying his head on one end, where he imagined her chest would be. Listening to his watch tick through the goose down pillow, he imagined he could hear her heart, ticking gently, in rhythm with his own. As he dozed off, late into the night, there was even a gentle, secret warmth about it, radiating into his body. As the night wore on, in his dreams she was right there with him.

* * *

Across London, Ginny lay before the Mirror, eyes glued to his pale reflection across from her. As another week wore on, she found herself in this room every night, as close as she could manage, dragging her fingers over every aspect she held relatively close to her. _One eye,_ she thought to herself, dragging the point of her finger over one closed eyelid. _Another eye,_ she traced over his nose and across the other eyelid. Letting her hand fall to her face, the cold December breeze blew in, making her shiver in the delicious coolness. Her body fought for rest after today's fatigue, but her mind defended for thoughtfulness, reminding her over and over how alone she was, and how she hadn't even gotten to spend Christmas with the family she had been sent with. 

She pictured her own family, her mother cooking and her father working, Charlie in Romania, tan and bright, Fred and George running their joke shop, Ron scheming and plotting with the other two. As her mind rolled back over information being fed to her, she realized that no one knew where Bill had been. No one had seen him since the Death Eater sighting, but her mother supposed he was off in some exotic country, traveling, ever rebellious. Ginny smiled slightly.

Looking up, she realized that that the small gesture had rippled Draco's peacefully sleeping image, pillow tucked against his chest reappearing from where she'd slid in to attempt to replace it. She pulled her fingers down the side of his face, stopping at his chin. As his chest rose and fell in the reflection she rested her head on the cold of the wood floor. She stared at his image until it became placid and still again, the only movement his body and his eyelids, which continued to twitch as his eyes rolled back and forth beneath them.

Closing her eyes, she could almost smell him, almost feel his cool temperature against her back…

But as the breeze brushed through her hair, she sighed.

* * *

A week gloomily passed. As the sun rose he jerked up so fast his head swam, having imagined Ginny doing so, running across some dark room. Remembering what Snape had told him just the week before, he stared down at his pillow, lonely, before dropping his head back down to shield his eyes from the bright light in his window.

* * *

The bathroom was so far away. Down the hall, another landing, down another hall. The door burst open upon her impact, her body never happier to see the dull white porcelain in the corner welcoming her. 

She leaned against the bathtub, letting the coolness of its sides wash over her. She managed to crack the bathroom windows, also, managing to give herself at least a few gulps of fresh air for that hour.

Never had she felt so awful and angry, yet so sad and lonely at the same time. As she held a wet washcloth to her forehead she felt the tears build up behind her eyelids, red hot and unstoppable. Peeling her eyes open again, she felt the wetness rush down her cheeks to pool at her lips, the saltiness sour and bitter in her mouth.

Imagine that, she thought to herself, as another painful tear rolled down her cheek. _Imagine me._

she thought to herself, as another painful tear rolled down her cheek. 

Flushing the toilet, she managed to stumble up, to sit on the edge of the bathtub, the washcloth squeezed tight in her hands. _I should see a Healer,_ she thought to herself. _And hope against God this is really happening._

Gracelessly making her way back down the hall, she collapsed onto the old bed, facedown into the musty pillows. Closing her eyes, she fell back into dreamless sleep.

* * *

Around noon Draco was roused by a gentle, shaking hand on his shoulder. Tired but anxious, he woke immediately, gloomily raising his head to stare up into bright blue eyes. He sighed. 

"Blaise," he greeted, almost never happier to see someone his age, someone to understand him, standing before him.

Blaise's solid features weren't good news as he sat up, watching Blaise settle into an armchair across the room.

"Draco," he nodded with civilian grace, crossing one leg over the other.

"Has breakfast been served?" Draco asked, his stomach choosing to make itself heard. Blaise raised his eyebrow.

"Lunch isn't for another hour."

"Oh," Draco replied, frowning.

"You could get a snack," Blaise suggested.

"I might be able to manage."

"No supper last night, either? That's two nights. I'd be ravenous if I were you."

Draco shrugged, gazing up at him.

"Well… you wouldn't want to be."

Blaise looked at him.

"Any news from Severus?"

"Since I talked to him? No. Not a word."

"Bad news," Blaise said, looking out the window.

"I s'pose."

"Speaking of," Blaise said quietly, "I overheard Narcissa this morning. Had a direct Floo conversation with someone in the east parlor. Very messy."

Draco looked up.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

Draco stared at him. Blaise stared back.

"And who was it?"

"It was Molly."

"Molly…?" Draco asked, heart suddenly racing.

"Ginny's mum."

"What about?"

"Don't you mean about who?" Blaise corrected, raising an eyebrow.

His gaze couldn't have been any more silent.

"It wasn't about - was it?" Draco stumbled, clutching a blanket in his hand. His heart continued to race, _thumpthumpthumpthumpthump._

"Yes. Mate, it was about Ginny."

* * *

Ginny rolled onto her stomach later on a new afternoon, her bout of sickness already passed. Her stomach rumbled angrily, but she knew she could only hold down saltines and, perhaps, some juice. Stumbling down the steps into the kitchen, she shuffled through food she'd purchased earlier that week. _Low on saltines,_ she told herself. Reaching for a quart of juice, she plopped down at the table, in her very same spot, and didn't even notice her tears mingling with the gooey mess of cracker.

* * *

"Couldn't have been. She was with her, right? There's nothing wrong. You're shitting me. It's not funny," Draco angrily babbled. Blaise nodded. 

"You're right. It's not funny. But it's true. And she's not with her. It turns out that Ginny's been missing, mate."

Draco reeled back.

"Missing?"

"Yes, Draco. Missing. She's gone - lost. Nobody has seen her."

"How could a mother lose her own damn daughter?" Draco inquired, rage and fear seizing him at the same time.

"I don't know, mate."

"Insane. Impossible. You're fucking joking."

"I only wish I was."

All of a sudden, Draco began to laugh.

"You're fucking me. Great, Blaise. What an act."

Blaise stood and approached the bed, fingers wrapping around the iron footboard so tightly that his knuckles were white and red.

"Draco, grip reality. I'm not joking. Ginny's missing. Gone. Lost."

His laugh faded, the only face left one of shock and sudden pain. He stared at the blankets.

"Gone."

"Well, I guess not _gone._."

"What did you hear?" he asked suddenly, looking up. Blaise closed his eyes.

"Well. Uhm… Oh. Narcissa went to the fire… Molly said something about, how, she sent Ginny off to come back here two weeks after their visit… but that would've been three weeks ago, and if she was supposed to come back before then, then nobody knows where she is. Molly said she's gone crazy, asking everywhere and anyone, but nobody's seen her. Even the trains people didn't see her leave, she was suddenly that discreet."

"She's out there… alone?" Draco inquired, inwardly weary. Blaise's lips tightened.

"Molly's going mad. The Ministry's trying their hardest looking for her."

"She really did it," Draco said softly to himself.

Blaise looked up, concerned.

"She really did what?"

"She did what she said."

"You've known this whole time?"

He shook his head.

"Not known. She sent me something."

He pulled open a hatch in his watch and retrieved a flimsy, creased scrap of parchment. Blaise took it into his hands, unfolding it and reading the worn script. He read it again, and then three times, before he finally looked up at Draco, astonished.

"She ran."

Draco smiled wanly, pointing to her statement.

"No, she didn't run. She's hiding."

"Where?"

He shrugged.

"She didn't say."

"She sent you this stupid letter but she didn't tell you where she was?"

"No."

"Did you try to reply?"

"I attempted. But then something told me that I should let her call on me. I thought that if she was hiding, wherever she was hiding, wouldn't that be a lot of attraction on her part?"

"So you didn't reply to her?"

"Of course not."

"So she's off in fucking nowhere, locked herself up somewhere, with nobody to watch over her, nobody to feed her.."

"She'll send again before Christmas."

"That's only in like, two days, mate."

He shrugged.

"And if she doesn't, she'll still send again. I have faith."

"You're having hallucinations, that's what."

"What else do you know?"

"What do you mean what else do I know?"

"What else did Molly say?"

Blaise tilted his head and thought hard about it. Then his eyes widened.

"She said she's posted a missing ad."

Draco looked up in horror.

"A missing ad? Like, a missing person's ad?"

Blaise nodded.

* * *

When dawn broke again, Severus tried for what he told himself would be the final time to reach Dumbledore. He'd been trying for so long after Draco's visit, but the portraits had told him that, no, Albus hadn't been in his office since November, but would alert him when he arrived. Snorting to them, he'd always just pulled back from the fire, thinking to try again in the morning. 

This morning, he made his way wearily to the fire, throwing the Floo powder in as he called for Albus's office. Pressing his head into the fire, he came face to face with the old Headmaster, small grains of Floo powder falling from the handful he was squeezing. He smiled and put the powder back into the jar by the fire, sitting back into his chair.

"These people tell me you've been driving them nuts every morning, calling on me. They were about to get someone to seal the fireplace, if I hadn't come along."

Severus nodded.

"I've been trying every day since a certain student came to call on me in private quarters."

Albus stared down at him, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ah, our beloved Draco Malfoy."

"In the flesh, with surprising news."

"Which would be?"

"Well, firstly, his bloodline elemental energies seem to be showing themselves in his life."

"And secondly?"

"He has been only able to see one thing, a very curious thing."

"Tell me."

"He senses there's going to be something wrong with Ginevra Weasley, who, to my knowledge, mysteriously disappeared three weeks ago."

"Mysteriously?"

Severus rolled his eyes.

"The boy is nuts. But I knew what I heard the moment he mentioned it."

"So… Draco Malfoy is predicting the future?"

He closed his eyes, sighing.

"Possibly not predicting the future. It could just be a glitch, a congealing in family blood. It could be that he's so worried."

Albus shrugged.

"Could be. But I think you'll agree with the rest of the staff, who has seen an incredulous change in him this school year."

"Yes, I should like to, but - "

"Did you tell him not to bother it?"

Severus nodded.

"I told him not to dwell on it."

"I will have Mr. Malfoy in my office the afternoon that the students return. It will be safe enough if you follow your own advice, Severus. This new year should have danger in every corner."

With a quick nodded and a brief snap, Severus pulled his head back through the fire and was gone.

* * *

UHM…. Yeah. Okay. Oh, shit. I forgot to add a freaking song… oh well. None of them really blend with this chapter, and all the ones I'm thinking of I've been planning to use for different chapters. Damnit. Well, you know the disclaimer. The Queen and her dunces own it all: props to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Inc. Damn them for robbing me! Lol

I know. This chapter sucks. Just review anyway.


	16. Author's Note! Importante!

Well. To answer not many questions, I haven't been able to update like I would've liked to because I, am away from home, in New Jersey, where I come back to my birthplace every summer.

BUT

I promise that this is no excuse to keep you guys from waiting chapters. It shouldn't be long now before I up the fic, because I've been doing a lot of writing while I've been here so I have a lot of new stuff for it.

ALSO

I wouldn't get too stuck on the new updates and such. When I get back home, I have preband camp from 4-9, and then I have a whole week of band camp, and then school starts.

But I promise you guys that I will try to write and update as much as I can until I get this fic finished.

Also watch for new one-shots… I get a lot of weird ideas in New Jersey, thus the hatching of two new fics came to mind, so!

Be watching for new stuff, GIVE ME A HOLLER! Byee

-Gabrielle


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Title : _Stings Like Fire_

_Author: _Uhm.. yeah. That'd be me, with Jo's help.

Summary: Honestly. Do you bother?

* * *

A/N: Thank all of you absolutely for your concern with Ginny and Draco and all that jazz, and for your support and urges for me to pursue this next chapter. Thank all of you absolutely for your concern with Ginny and Draco and all that jazz, and for your support and urges for me to pursue this next chapter. But , I have to thank some specific reviewers:

Soulstealer6669- Yay Jersey! Sorry about your LD… ticksewww.

AND

little-munchkin-poo - See, I updated… and you'll just have to find out what this chapter has in store for everyone's favorite G/D coupling. Er… at least, they're my favorite… or… whatever.

AND

A mysterious Ashley person. - thank you, oh-so much

AND

Ginny Marie - ditto! Thanks bunches, I'm updating now, as you'll see… lol

AND

A Futuro person - I dunno if you told me who you were, lol, but you don't know how awesome it is to talk to someone about my fan fiction. Thank you loads.

You guys just kick ass.

**THERE ARE PROBABLY LOADS OF TYPOS!**

Okay folks. Just some go-ahead messages, to thwart oncoming flames:

Never been pregnant, don't know the schedule, nor do I know what it's like. Or want to until I'm like, 25. Don't yell.

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME ODD-NESS (BLAISE/RON).

I'm also under the impression that yes, I know, the time-scale thing is totally fucked. I'm trying to get it back on track. Until then, you'll just have to deal with the fucked-up timeline as well as the fucked-up plotline. :P

And, also to thwart oncoming questions - this is post OotP. The next full fic, possibly, will be HBP… but this isn't. Don't worry about spoilers.

* * *

Ginny stood with her head against the mirror and sighed, the bathroom door shut tight. 

"This," she said quietly to herself, "is the worst thing."

She wiped a tear from her eye, and then examined her face. Her paleness wasn't too white, but she did look sickly… her neck sloped down regularly, creamy and white, down to her -

Oh my God.

She leaned away from the mirror, pulling up her breasts with her hands.

"Oh my God," she said aloud, examining herself again. As she pulled up her breasts, a slight joy sprung into her face, before it faded gently.

"Draco would've loved this," she said, smiling slightly. She pulled down her shirt and stuck out her chest, bouncing her breasts once again. Then she turned from the bathroom, switched off the light, and descended the hallway.

_Don't tell him,_ she thought._ Just mail the presents._

Stopping at a desk, she slipped a silver bracelet onto her right wrist, and then gently picked up two small red boxes.

As she tied the two boxes to the owl's leg, she smiled again.

"Happy Christmas," she said, and then left the room.

* * *

A day passed. And then another. Christmas was somber, as if Saint Nick had robbed them of glee instead of given it. The evening was, though, punctuated by one moment of warmth; amid their present piles, Draco and Blaise had each received silver bracelets, with two emerald set stones, each with a card. Draco's message was short, but he understood her stiff, hasty message with cold, swallowed ease: no attention drawn. It simply read: 

_Draco_,

I hope your Christmas is eventful and happy. Hug your mum for me.

No worries.

I love you,

_Ginny_

Blaise, however, was still quite upset despite the knowledge, although he did deeply appreciate her gift. His letter said:

_Blaise,_

You, too, have a Happy Christmas. Help Draco keep safe.

Don't worry about me.

Love,

_Ginny._

Sitting back on the couch, Draco examined the bracelet on his wrist, brushing his finger over one of the emeralds, which seemed to pulsate slightly, shocking his finger. Across the room from him, Blaise jumped.

"What the hell?" he cried, holding his wrist. Draco looked up. Brushing his finger over the other, nothing happened. He repeated his first gesture, watching Blaise cry out in shock. He wrapped his hand around his wrist, his fingers hitting the two stones simultaneously. Draco jumped, imagining Ginny, somewhere, being jolted by her own bracelet. Knowledge hit him like a brick, making him fall back into the cushions of his chair.

"They're contact bracelets," he said aloud.

Blaise, still muttering incoherently, looked up.

"Contact bracelets?" he asked, now examining his own bracelet.

"Yes," Draco replied.

"So, when we're shocked," he began slowly, "that means - "

" - someone's contacting us, yes," he said in quiet triumph, eyes bright and knowing. Blaise was quiet for a moment. Suddenly, he looked up.

"Draco," he said, again, slowly, "I'm thinking she's going to run."

* * *

Narcissa entered the room slyly, watching the two boys in the parlor. As her eyes drifted across the room, she noticed two presents in the corner. 

"Whose are those?" she asked, motioning to the presents. Draco and Blaise both looked around. Then, quietly, Draco answered, "They're Ginny's."

Automatically Narcissa's face softened, as Draco stared into the fire.

"Well," Narcissa said, opting to change the subject, "perhaps you should pack. Giles will be here tomorrow to assist you back to the train station."

Blaise nodded, clapping Draco's knee.

"You heard 'er," he said softly. "Let's go pack."

Draco barely nodded, clutching his card in his hand.

He and Blaise parted ways at their doors, each kicking open their trunks as they scanned their rooms for books, brooms, robes, and scales. Draco sighed.

'Better pack,' he thought.

* * *

The room looked considerably cleaner now. Everything was now arranged correctly and neatly inside his trunk, save for a few items. 

He got down on his knees, lifting the bed ruffle - his fingers slipped past boxes and books, quills and galleons, and then - something small, soft, and silky. Creasing his brow, Draco dragged out the item - a pair of silver and green silk underwear. Smoothing the fabric between his fingers, he smiled - Ginny's underwear. Despite himself, he laughed, slipping the drawers into his pocket until later.

* * *

Molly Weasley stumbled out of the fireplace, hurriedly brushing soot from her robes in a frantic attempt to keep from fidgeting. Just behind her stumbled Arthur Weasley, latching onto his wife's shoulders in order to steer her out of any oncoming traffic. The east parlor door was thrown wide, the room, empty, save for them. The foyer beyond that was gleaming and silent. The house stood on its foundation in stark, cold silence; their footsteps echoed from the parlor. Arthur forced her onto the love seat; she stared off into the empty space. 

"Now, Molly," Arthur said quietly, taking her hand, "it could just be a misunderstanding."

Molly turned to face him.

"I am quite sure it's not. Just think of it, Arthur!" she cried. "Think of how much she needs me!"

Arthur scowled.

"Wherever she is, she's probably getting along fine. It's quite possible she's just holed up without an owl, waiting to write us," he suggested hopefully, patting her hand.

"What if she's not? What if some Death Eater hooligan took her from the train? I don't want her to have the same fates as Gideon and Fabian, Arthur! What if it was the Malfoy boy?"

"Molly, I don't - "

"'The Malfoy boy'?" came a sharp oncoming voice. Molly jumped as Narcissa entered the room.

"Cissa, honestly, I didn't mean - " she scrabbled.

"Then just what did you mean?" she inquired stiffly. Molly sank back into the cushions.

"I just meant that - "

"You meant what, Molly?" Narcissa snapped. "That my son is no longer permittable to your daughter?"

Molly sighed.

"Of course not," she said quietly. "It's just that she's been different lately."

"Elaborate," Narcissa demanded. Arthur cleared his throat.

"She means that, ah, since Ginevra's been with Draco, she's changed considerably. Grown a backbone, if you will. She's been more and more mature, rebellious. Molly meant it in no offensive way," Arthur said, eyeing her warily.

Now Narcissa sighed, scratching the back of her neck.

"The boys - Draco and Blaise - go back to school very soon. Draco's been acting very strange, stand-offish, if you will. Blaise's been so stern lately, it's so confusing. Neither of them have come out of their hiding places since she left, but for Christmas and supper."

Arthur nodded.

"That's another thing we're worried about. If Ginny doesn't resume her studies, she could fail."

Closing her eyes, Molly spoke up.

"I'm just hoping, you know, with this ad, we might be able to find her. I can't believe this is happening."

Narcissa nodded and sat down across from them.

"Plus, the family's been acting strangely since she disappeared. Ron and Hermione have parted, Ron's been acting odd, Fred and George have been very secretive - not to mention, that we haven't heard from Bill since Thanksgiving."

Narcissa sighed, shoulders sagging.

"There must be a way, Molly."

As they discussed their plans, the night wore on.

* * *

The train slid up to the platform outside Hogwarts the next evening. Draco and Blaise rolled their trunks down the steps, into carriages. Carriages that felt rather empty without warmth. 

Blaise tossed him a chocolate frog.

"What?" Draco asked, tossing it back to him.

Blaise pegged him with it.

"Eat it."

"What for?" Draco demanded.

"Just fucking eat it, would you?"

"Why?" he cried.

Blaise stared at him, angrily.

"You haven't eaten in like, two days. Those vanishing tricks aren't fooling anyone, you know. Eat the damn frog. I'll make sure you eat more later."

Draco looked up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Now eat it."

Reluctant, but ravenous, Draco pulled open the box, held the frog between his thumb and index finger, and put it in his mouth.

"Better?"

"Not much."

"Well, it doesn't matter. That's just to get you started."

Draco nodded gravely as the carriage rolled to a halt. Toppling out, he sighed.

* * *

A week later, one morning, Draco was sitting in the window seat of his dorm, when Blaise strolled in, solemnly. 

"Any news?"

Draco shrugged. As Blaise plopped down on his bed, a tawny owl hooted and pecked softly at the window. Draco pulled the paper from its talons, pressing a few coins into its side pouch.

As his eyes scanned the headline, he cursed.

Ministry Mayhem:

Minister's Daughter M.I.A.

Then, beneath, it said:

_Hogwarts Squeals - Malfoy's Mad Master Plan_

Draco squeezed the paper in his hands, searching for the author of such an invading, intruding column. The name in the corner of the space made him stand abruptly and kick the opposite wall, causing a picture frame to rattle and fall, it's occupant screaming.

What bollocks!

He sat down behind the desk, fuming.

"She's such a bitch," he said aloud. Blaise looked up from his cup of coffee.

"I thought you loved her?" he exclaimed, quite shocked. Draco looked up, tossing the paper to Blaise. He gasped and scanned it, before clearing his throat, very Umbridge-like - "hem hem" - and began to read the first few paragraphs of Rita's outrageous writings.

"'The Ministry of Magic is going wild, after Molly Weasley filed missing person's ad on only daughter, Ginevra Weasley, whose first encounter with You-Know-Who has been said not to have been her last. With this last distraction from work, the Minister - Ginevra's father - has put the Ministry through grueling work tracking down his precious only daughter, 16.

Though the Minister refused to talk, his close assistant, his son, put in his thoughts on the matter.

'Well, with the break from Azkaban, Death Eaters are rounding up prisoners faster than you can say "Merlin." Ms. Weasley, last seen at Malfoy Manor as only heir Draco Malfoy's special sweetheart, has been rumored to be Lucius Malfoy's one key at a deadly unknown weapon.'"

Blaise stopped as Draco bore holes in the wall, grumbling the words, "Special sweetheart?"

Blaise scanned the column once again, before he raised his eyebrows.

"Listen to this," he said, nodding to the paper.

"'Though none've been said to have any information on the whereabouts or plans of Ginevra Weasley, few anonymous students confessed their own contemplated conclusions.

'Lucius Malfoy paid his son to take in Ginny. Then they were going to steal her soul to feed to You-Know-Who, so he can finally kill Harry,' one said. Another disagreed.

'I think Mr. Malfoy kidnapped Ginny to force her into joining the Dark Lord, so he can make sure she's right for Draco. Once they're married, The Minister will have to accept Membership, and slowly he'll let the Dark Lord break into the world again.'

Either way, Ginny Weasley has been said to be strongly connected with the Malfoy family. How or why? Perhaps love… or death. Hogwarts harboring fugitives? Who knows.'"

Blaise scanned the rest of the paper, stopping to read a gossip column on Draco and Ginny. Then he tossed the paper down on the desk. Draco stared at it angrily, but had a gentle, niggling fear: was she really kidnapped? He shooed Blaise from the room and dropped onto his bed warily.

* * *

**Wakey wakey, Draco,** was scrawled in Ginny's handwriting on a piece of parchment when he woke. A gray-black owl hooted softly from his desk, scratching its talons across the back. He groped for a quill. 

_**Where are you?**_ he wrote back, then brushed the feather against his face, scribbling a tiny spiral in a secluded corner. Having barely no more to say, he sent the owl on its way. Sitting up, he decided it would be a fairly long day.

The owl was back around 4.

Far, far away. I'm so bored. I think I'm sick 

He laughed. It was always like her to be pained on a holiday.

**_Far, far away? Is it sunny there? I've been wandering all afternoon, back at school. You left your underwear._** He chuckled to himself, then darkened his spiral from that morning.

**_Sick? How sick? Sick-sick, or sickly-tired sick?_**

The owl left. It came back at 11.

I've thrown up twice, but it's not so bad. Just a little feverish - and other stuff. I should get some fresh air. It's funny you found my knickers. What color are they? I knew I was missing a pair.

__

Ahh.

Air. You should lie down.. Just don't draw any bacteria into your lungs.

He paused.

****

They're green. With silver stripes that glisten when they move. Delicious, I'd say. Too bad you aren't here.

Blaise knocked on his door. Something about eating. He sent the owl, and went to answer. When he was gone, he laid himself down onto his pillows, pushing his head into the warm sanctuary the down softness offered. And he slept.

* * *

It was back when he woke again. It was still and silent, head resting on its chest as it dozed. He found a treat, left it on the desk until it woke. He grabbed the parchment. 

Don't make me feel bad. I could be gone awhile. I've been sluggish too, as of late. Mum yelled at me a few weeks ago about not being fast enough to hide my wand. A little boy found it, gave himself huge teeth like Hermione's times ten. I threw up on her shoes. She sent me to bed without supper. As if I could care 

His brow furrowed.

****

You should've eaten, Ginny. Malnutrition isn't something that's good for you. It's no day at the beach, darling. Blaise misses you. Everyone misses you.

He drew another spiral near the end of the page.

****

Don't be stupid, Ginny. Get some rest. I want you well for school. Infact, I want you well just to be well. I don't like it when you're sick. It makes you helpless. It scares me.

He sent it on its way, relying on the convenient answer.

I can't eat. I can barely hold anything down. And I miss your Mum. She's a lot less snotty than mine. And tell Blaise I miss him to.

His eyes drifted. There was a spiral opposite his first one, drawn in the red ink she was writing with. He gave a grim smile.

I want to be well. I want you to want me to be well, too, just so I can be. This sickness is so weird. One time I'm up, another I'm down. Sometimes it makes me just want to die.

He watched the words helplessly.

****

You won't die, but it does sound really bad. See a Healer. Don't hold off of seeing one.

It came back, ruffled two days late. It worried him.

I'm sorry this is late. I went to see her yesterday, like you said. I didn't hold off. She said I've gained weight (surprisingly), and I should be happy to tell my parents weren't I so young. My appetite's increased, but she said that's normal. My sickness should stop in a month or so. I'm still afraid, though.

This has been said so many times that I'm not sure if it matters

We never stood a chance

And I'm not sure if it matters

If you are the shores

I am the waves begging for big moons

I'm mailing letters to addresses in a ghost town

(Ohh)

He frowned. Scared?_**Why are you scared?**_ he scribbled feverishly._** She said you'd get better, right? She said you'd be fine. Don't be a hypochondriac, Gin. You'll be ok. You're strong.**_

Suddenly, he remembered the missing ad, and the article in the Prophet.

****

You're missing, did you know? Weeks and weeks. Where have you been?

A few days later, he was doing his homework, watching the window warily for a new message. He opened the window as he saw the owl advance, letting it swoop towards him in a cold rush of air. Dropping the scroll, it circled back without stopping, right back through the window.

Missing? Does it sound like I'm missing?

He thought about it.

****

Well, no… but we miss you. You're just… gone, you know? You ran. No one believes me, that you ran. But if you're not missing, then where are you?

A day later, he read:

With Bill, somewhere. We've ducked out together. No big deal… maybe I'll be back later on.

Maybe?

****

Why maybe? No definite answer?

By the way, Blaise and I love the gifts.

He didn't say anything about her plan to run. As he tightened his lips, he focused solely on keeping in touch. Something like accusation might startle her.

All through Potions he thought about her. Transfiguration passed with failing marks. Defense Against The Dark Arts was dark and boring, Herbology uneventful. He couldn't stop thinking about her; where was she? Was she safe? Was she nearby? Did she miss him?

And then:

Was she really going to run?

I know this hurts

It was meant to

Your secret's out

And the best part is

It isn't even a good one

And it's mind over (you don't, don't) matter

He turned down Blaise's invitation to Lunch, and took his free period in his room, watching the window from his bed. Once or twice he caught himself thinking about her, her skin, the way she tasted, her lips, her eyes, her hair. Once or twice he held his head in his hands and took deep breaths, deep solid breaths, steadying his mind to let his heart raced.

The rest of classes passed when he awoke. Dark had settled permanently for the evening outside, the sky and the grounds black.

He laid back and stared at the canopy, eyes glazed. He pressed his hands behind his head, resting his arms gently. He almost laughed, almost, just for the hell of it, just to hear it in his ears.

And then:

The owl hit the window.

The sound, the action itself, startled him so much he jumped abruptly, his legs flying over the edge of the bed to reach it before it fell.

The latch slipped through his fingers, twice, before he finally fumbled it open; the owl fell onto the sill, toppling over onto the window seat with a slight gurgling sound.

He closed the window, gently, and picked up the owl, making feeble attempts to heal it. From the look of it, it's black wing was broken, its feathers ruffled. Draco detached the letter with a tinge of fear. Someone, obviously, was trying to catch them; he felt as though someone was trying to trace her, them. He shuddered, called for a house elf, and commanded it to take it to the owlery, to heal… and then, slowly, he unrolled the letter.

I figured they'd be in your best taste. I'd hoped you would. And figure them out, too. I didn't send an explanation.

The space was small, between her sentences. Looking back up the scroll, he wondered where the other letters went.

Gin, Ginny. Ginevra.

The fire whiskey intake level seemed dangerously high as his eyes focused on the warbling letters. He took a deep breath.

They're trying to find you. I need to make sure you're safe… I need to see you.

He stopped again, sucking the tip of his pen, thinking, **_where? Where? _**

In Hogsmeade, this weekend. Outside… Madame Puddifoot's. Please, I just need to assure myself. I need to see you in person.

He sent a different bird, a hawk. Something slightly smarter, sleeker, different. Then he shuffled from the room, down the steps into the Common Room, where the fire licked at the grate like tongues. Settling into an armchair before it, he monitored the students filtering to and fro. As Thursday night wore on, Blaise didn't bother to wake him, seeing him dozing so peacefully, twitching slightly, yes, but slightly content, as if some knowledge he had attained calmed him. He only covered him with a blanket from the corner of a nearby couch, tucking the edge into the cushions, looking down at him, with a gentle warmth in his eyes. The clock chimed 3.

This has been said

So many times that I'm not sure if it matters

But it must be said again

That all us boys are just screaming

Into microphones for attention

Because we're just so bored

We never knew that you would pick it apart, oh

I'm falling apart to songs about hips and hearts

(your secret's out)

As he stepped from the portrait hole, preparing to make his last rounds of the evening, hoping to catch students out after curfew, he felt something brush his shoulder, to the slightest. A slight groaning sound followed. Wheeling around at this awkward, invisible touch, he gestured wildly, reaching to grasp whomever or whatever it was that had hit him. Just as he was about to call out, his fingers brushed against cool, smooth cloth, closing around a fold of the material. With a smirk of defiance, he jerked hard on the cloth. The person before him stood stock still, staring at him, in a trance. Blaise took in the red hair and freckles, holding the invisible cloak tightly in his hand to keep his excitement hidden.

"Well well well. Ronald Weasley, out past curfew. That deserves 15 points off and a detention, wouldn't you say?"

Ron just looked at him, awe, shock, and wonder clouding his facial expression. Blaise leaned closer, not able to help himself, and whispered, "That is, unless, you're willing to do something to earn them back."

Ron looked up into his eyes, fingers clenching and unclenching as he rocked back on his heels.

"I heard you were - I mean - they said - are you ? - what about - what?"

Blaise smirked again, leaning back from the stammering redhead. Ron gulped, taking a deep breath.

"You heard I was what, Ronald? On patrol? A Death Eater? A - " he began, until Ron, on a sudden burst of courage, stammered, "I heard you were gay."

Blaise leaned back, slightly shocked by this loud accusation, but slightly pleased at the fact the boy had enough bravery beneath his belt to come looking and see for him self. Thinking back to the beginning of the holiday, when Blaise had actually _met_ the Weasley boy, Blaise recalled staring at him, wondering what his skin looked like in the dark, digging into the boy's thoughts… and he suddenly shuddered.

Ron stared at him, wide-eyed, afraid the prefect might suddenly wail out on him, jinx him to death for making such an assumption, or worse - ask him where he found out. And in truth, it had been Colin Creevey.

To be perfectly truthful, not many people knew Ronald Weasley was - for lack of a better term - _bisexual._ He, himself, had only figured it out when his younger sister, Ginny, was friends with Colin Creevey , who had suffered some kind of devastating relationship problem and brought him to the Manor for a day or two before she left, and he had awoken to find the bloke in the corner, staring at him, only dressed in his underwear, in a rather impressive state.

And then, that's where it all began. He and Colin had some kind of thing, Colin went home, and then Colin called him for some advice… and it had slipped through his loose lips to Ron's ears, when Colin had come in one evening, devastated, needing Ron's company. He hadn't said a word at the time, but since Christmas, since that strange meeting of Blaise Zabini, like someone prodding his thoughts, like warmth in his brain… he had felt like he should know the truth, like he had to…

I know this hurts

It was meant to

Your secret's out

And the best part is

It isn't even a good one

And it's mind over (you don't, don't) matter

So there he was, down the hallway at the crack of dawn, in only pajama pants, with the Invisibility Cloak hiding him. He hadn't thought he'd be caught, he just thought he might catch the bloke in a bit of action, or something… but he had been fantasizing since this idea came out, since he broke up with Hermione, that Blaise would catch him, torture him in impossible ways… he groaned at the sound, brushing slightly against Blaise as he stepped from the portrait hole. He sucked in a deep breath and began to reel backwards, away from Blaise's trembling hands, his heart racing as Blaise came closer… the other boy's mouth opened, just slightly, as long, slim, delicate fingers wrapped around a fold of the special cloak, and Ron was there.

Now, Blaise leaned forward again.

"Oh yeah?" he breathed, his breath touching Ron's cheek, "and who told you that?"

Ron stared into his eyes, hands trembling, lips banging together, until he stammered, "C-Colin C-Creevey."

Blaise snapped back, as if physically slapped by this name, by the idea that he had told. His eyes clouded over, just slightly, as he remembered…

He had met Colin at the beginning of the year, caught him out after curfew, threatened to give him detention if his "skinny little butt" didn't get back to his dorm room. Blaise, embarrassed and shocked that he had said this out loud, just stared at the younger boy, who wheeled around to stare at him in curiosity. Then, Blaise remembered, in the softest, most fragile voice, Colin said, "I'm rather sure you'd like to join me."

And so in secret, they were together. Then, when they departed for Christmastime, Blaise had gone in secret one evening, after Ginny's disappearance, for a surprise visit. But what he saw shocked and utterly devastated him. As he pushed open Colin's bedroom door, another male figure was already there, sprawled out beneath him - a 4th year Hufflepuff Blaise had told him about one evening, when they were together. It's amazing how you never think about pillow talk after you get out of bed. Colin had been so upset, apparently, at betraying Blaise's love and trust, that he came to visit Ginny in secret. Blaise avoided him at all costs, thereinafter.

****

I used to

Obsess over living

But now I only obsess over you

Tell me you'd like boys like me better

In the dark lying on top of you

Now the name jolted him severely, and an unwanted feeling of sadness flooded over him. His eyes, now turned blocks of blue ice, turned back to Ron.

"I don't know how he would know. Unless you want to be punished, Weasley, get back to your dorm."

Blaise had begun to turn and walk away, Cloak falling from his fingertips, when Ron suddenly gathered the courage to call back, "I know what happened. It's okay, I know how you feel. I was with Colin when he told me."

Blaise stopped, so suddenly Ron reeled back.

"How did you find out?" he called coldly over his shoulder.

Ron shivered at his voice.

"Christmastime. Colin came to me after you saw him."

This has been said

So many times that I'm not sure if it

Matters

"He betrayed me."

This has been said

So many times that I'm not sure if it

Matters

"He betrayed me for you."

This has been said

So many times that I'm not sure if it

Matters

Blaise spun, slowly.

This has been said

so many times that I'm not sure if it

Matters

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Nevermind. I'll go to my dorm."

Ron scooped the cloak into his arms, preparing to turn and go back the way he came, when a soft hand rested on his shoulder. Ron turned at the touch, coming face to face with the pale, troubled mask. Blaise looked down at him, tilting his head slightly to the side. Ron touched his shoulder, then his neck, before he reached up, slightly, and rested his lips gently on Blaise's.

I know this hurts

It was meant to

Your secret's out

And the best part is

It isn't even a good one

And it's mind, over (you don't, don't, don't, don't) matter

The clock chimed 5 when they parted. Blaise did a quick run-through of the Dungeons before he headed back to the dorms; upon reaching the Common Room, his eyes drifted to a discarded blanket on the couch. Folding it neatly he vanished it, making his way back up the steps. On his way to his own room, he banged on Blaise's door; upon getting no answer, he pounded harder, before entering without warning, barging in on something that stopped his heart mid-beat.

****

From day one I talked about getting out

But not forgetting about

How all my worst fears were letting out

He said "Why put a new address

On the same old loneliness"

When breathing just passes the time

Until we all just get old and die

A blonde head was bowed in the windowsill, a pale, bare back glinting back at him. His legs were swung over the sill, his boxered butt resting slightly on the edge of the window as he looked down, the cold January air brushing back his hair. His hands were holding the molding gently, fingers gripping the wood ever so slightly, as if at any second, he might jump off. Blaise got two steps in before he cried,

"What the hell are you doing!"

Draco turned his head slowly, then pointed out the window, into the snow.

"She's here, Blaise. She's here."

"Who's here? Where? Are you _drunk_?"

The blonde turned back to the window, eyes on the ground, pushing his legs back over the sill, into the room. Then, pressed by this sudden knowledge, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a heavy hooded sweatshirt, pulling on socks as he pushed his feet into a pair of boots, pulling the hood over his head as he raced from the room.

****

Now talking's just a waste of breath

And living's just a waste of death

And why put a new address

On the same old loneliness

And this is you and me

And me and you

Until we've got nothing left.

Blaise ran to the window as Draco ran out, sticking his head out into the sharpness of the air, eyes scanning the snowy ground below. And what he saw, made him practically eat his words; down below, in a white hooded sweatshirt and jeans, and giant white boots, was Ginny Weasley, long red hair curly and tousled, rubbing her hands together as she wiped her eyes, hiding in the shadows of the trees.

Without any other thought, Blaise raced from the room, still in his school clothes from the afternoon, down the corridor.

* * *

UHOHUHOH! Guess what that is, folks! Uh-oh, you guessed it! _Cliff!_ hahahahaha…. LoL

Sorry. I'm working on the next chapter now, don't fret…

Mwahahaha.

THESE CHARACTERS/PLACES/STUFF belong to Queen J.K. Rowling/Warner Bros. whom without these books/movies my writing talent wouldn't have grown. Three cheers to J.K. and her Jesters, for giving me a fun way to pass time… and this one probably won't have a song… and if it does, it will be Fall Out Boy, called _Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) _from the album _From Under The Cork Tree._

Oh, and, for info - I'm back from band camp, which was good, but so hot and dramatic… one girl got sent home for being pregnant, the other got sent home for being a bitch, three girls got their curfews suspended because they were out past 10/11 with a bunch of guys from the Jellico football team, or something… And just to think, I would've been one of them if I hadn't left? Anyway…

I also made a bunch of new friends that I look forward to seeing somewhere.

And, for more info - I do start school Thursday, for good, so I really can't guarantee how fast I'm going to update. I have a bajillion ideas for this fic, and the one shots are shaping up nicely, so…

Just watch out, 'kay?


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

**Author: _Moi_**

**Summary : Oh, come on. A little old... > **

* * *

Okay, this chapter is a little screwed. You might not like it, you might think it's stupid, but I dunno. It's all Draco… and Draco's a little OCC, not so much. But how would you feel if you were a dude and your girlfriend went missing when you knew that if she did that they'd kill her, and then suddenly, she reappears at your doorstep? Yes, you would cry.**And, uhm, yeah. It's sexual. Sort of. If you can hardly call it that. And Ginny talks a slight bit about her boobs again. And so does Draco. XD**

* * *

Draco raced out across the lawn. The girl in front of him, standing beneath the trees, eyes red and blotchy, looked so different - but at least she was wearing his Christmas present. He remembered when he'd given it to her.

**"Take it."**

**"Draco, no."**

**It was after the ball, before they were taking him back to his room. His side ached horribly, but he thought that she should have it now, for some reason. He shoved it into her arms, the package crinkling. He'd bought it the afternoon they'd gotten her dress, and while the fiasco was going on in the dressing room, while she was changing he had spotted it, and immediately paid for it. He thought about leaving it in her room, but something made him need to give it to her now.**

**"Ginny."**

**"Draco, stop."**

**"Just take it."**

**"Why?"**

**"It's a present, Ginevra. Just take the damn package."**

**"How do I know it's a present?"**

**He leaned back, package pressed back into his hands. His cold eyes weighed her down guiltily.**

**"What else would I give you," he said coldly, voice more of an accusation than a question. Her eyes melted, and she looked up at him sadly, touching his arm.**

**"Draco, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry, I didn't think - I just - you never - your Dad - " she stammered, but he pushed the package into her arms.**

**"Just take it. I want you to have it."**

**Then, he kissed her swiftly on the lips, parting ways to be healed.**

Now she stood before him, an angel in a tight white fur coat, her lips banging together from the cold, hands balled into fists in white gloves.

As he came closer, 5 steps, 4 steps, 3 steps, 2, he met her as she leaned forward into his arms, her own arms wrapping around his neck, face pressed into his shoulder, eyes red and blotchy as she pulled at his coat. Draco pulled back, leaning down, and he kissed her, once, twice, five times, pressing his face into her neck, breathing so deep he thought he'd die. She didn't say anything, she just kept sniffling. Crunching footsteps echoed across the ground. Whirling around to hide her, he saw Blaise run forward, and Draco stepped aside at just the right time, letting Blaise wrap his arms around her and twirl her around, pulling her close.

"Ginny!" he called quietly, voice warped from cold and emotion. "Where have you been, why haven't you - what's the matter?"

Blaise set her down gently, brushing his hand down the side of her face.

"Not now," she said softly, her voice cracked. Draco reached for her hand, before he suddenly stepped back.

"How do I know you're not - "

She leaned up and pulled his head down, whispering into his ear. At the coloring of his face, Blaise cocked an eyebrow. Draco cleared his throat, and in a strangled voice, said, "Right, then."

Blaise just laughed, and lead the way back to the castle, while Ginny clung to Draco's arm, refusing to look anywhere but at the ground. Finally, they made it through the halls, past the Common Room, into Draco's dorm, where they huddled around the fire, all three of them smashed together. They didn't talk, they just sat, Ginny in Draco's arms. At half past 6, Blaise got up, kissed Ginny goodnight, who swore she would see him tomorrow, she would make sure of it, and left the room. The silence was broken when she rolled in his arms, pushing him back onto the floor, her hands on his chest.

"Ginny?"

"Don't talk," she said quietly, and pressed her mouth against his, her tongue tracing the crease of his lips, and he opened them upon reflex, letting her explore his mouth. Her hands slid from his shoulders to his stomach, fumbling for the hem of his sweatshirt. Reluctantly, he let her pull it over his head, undoing her coat and letting it fall to the floor beside them. Upon the sight of her only in a t-shirt, he pushed her back, eyes on her chest.

"Is it just me, or did - "

"I have something to tell you," she interrupted, sitting back on his legs. He sat up, pulling his arms around her as she rested her head against his shoulder, tracing his chest with her finger.

He smoothed the folds of shirt on her back, staring at the paleness of her skin, the contrasting of soft auburn hair and white skin.

"Okay, then," he said quietly, "Go ahead."

She traced circles and spirals on his neck, before she turned her face away from him, facing the wall. She took a deep breath, then let it out, and commenced tracing his shoulder.

"Well?" Draco said, egging her on.

"It's - it's not easy," she began, bowing her head slightly. He nodded slowly, squeezing her slightly. He pressed his lips against her neck, nuzzling her skin.

"Nothing's ever truly easy," he said. She nodded, now.

"Well. When I was coming back home, I was on the train, coming back here, when I noticed something odd, something missing…"

Draco sat still, peering into the fire.

"And I was afraid, I didn't want to come back here, so I went somewhere secret I remembered."

"Yes?"

"I was there, and as the week passed, I realized there was something wrong with me…"

"Wrong?"

"When I told you I was sick, I went to the Healer, and she said - she said - "

"What did she say, Ginny?"

Even Draco was eager and reluctant to hear this news.

"She said - she said I was pregnant."

Then her weight fell onto his shoulder, the force knocking him back onto the floor. He held her close, the words echoing in his mind.

I was pregnant.

Pregnant.

Pregnant.

Suddenly, he rolled her over, pressing his ear to her stomach.

"Draco, what are you doing!" she cried, looking down at him. He just wrapped his arms around her stomach and back, pressing his ear harder to her stomach.

"I'm listening."

"For what, my intestines!"

He ignored the comment and continued to listen. After a moment, she ran her hand through his hair.

"Draco, stop."

"I'm trying to hear it."

She laughed. The sound was quiet and a slight vibration against his ear, obstructing his hearing.

"Shh, I can't hear."

"You won't be able to, silly."

He looked up at her.

"And just why not?"

Her face softened.

"I'm only about a month along."

"A month?"

"Yes."

He stared at her. Gears clicked in her mind.

"Did you find out whose it was?"

Now her face was hard, her eyes soft and tearful.

"No. Not yet."

He looked up at her, and kissed her.

"I can't believe it."

He kissed her again.

"You're pregnant."

Again.

"Wow."

He rolled over her, pressing his lips against her neck, her collarbone, his hands wiggling beneath her shirt. He had just worked it halfway up, when she stopped him.

"Not now, Draco."

He looked at her, scrutinized her closely. Then, his face softened.

"Okay."

She rolled out from beneath him, sitting cross-legged.

"Just let me hold you, will you?" he said gruffly. She looked over at him, eyes slightly soft. Then she crawled into his lap, tucking her feet next to his, head on his arm.

"Wow."

"What?"

"You're pregnant. A _baby._ Wow."

Tears spilled from the corners of her eyelids.

"Such a shame."

He looked at her.

"Is not."

She stared back. Her eyes melted, and she closed them.

"You've forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

Opening her eyes, she peeled back his eyelids, peering into his pupils.

"Are you drunk?"

He grabbed her hands, holding them tightly.

"What do you mean, 'am I drunk'? I'm not drunk, what is it with you people in assuming that?"

Ginny looked at him. Another tear retraced the trail down her cheek.

"You've forgotten," she said again.

Draco, frustrated, slid her off of his lap and stood up, kicking off his boots. He undid his belt and unbuttoned his pants, sliding them to the floor. Then he pulled back his covers and slid beneath them, facing the side of the bed she used to sleep on. She just stood and stared at him from before the fire, her face shadowed.

"Draco," she said softly. "I didn't - "

"I didn't forget, Ginny. I haven't forgotten at all, because I keep dreaming about it. I keep dreaming bad things. No, I have in no way forgotten. I just wish everyone would stop being so negative. We can get around this, you and I. Somehow, we can. Remember what I told you? We can do this."

She stared at the giant lump of person that was this different Draco Malfoy. He turned his head, suddenly, looking just past her face.

"At least, I hoped we could. But not if everyone's going to be like that."

"Draco, I know, I just don't know - " she began.

"I don't know what's going to happen either," he interrupted. "But I'm hoping that whatever happens, we can get through it. Nothing has to happen. I don't want to kill an innocent life, for the sake of an evil Dark wizard."

He rolled back onto his side, wrapping his arms around to touch his upper arms. Tucking his knees up, he pressed his pinched face into the pillows, taking a deep breath. As he closed his eyes, her soft face was imprinted on the inside of his eyelids, and he sighed.

He must've been like that for nearly 15 minutes, neither of them moving or saying a word. After a long while, there was rustling of clothing. Then, to his left, opposite him, the covers lifted, letting in a cool breeze, and then warm skin was pressed against him, slender fingers reaching down to pull up his chin. As he opened his eyes, he looked up into hers - so much he had missed, when he first met her. Now she kissed him, so softly it was barely there, her lips so soft it was merely a tickle against his mouth.

He opened it for her anyway, arms uncurling to pull her down with him. She didn't fight, or even speak, as his hands traveled her body; in the most, the only things he heard were her whispers of his name, the gentle murmurs of, "I'm sorry."

And as her fingers slipped into his boxers, pulling them down, he steadied her hand, cautious.

"T-the baby? Will it - it won't - you know - it's not going to - I mean - by - I won't - ?" he asked awkwardly. She answered with a kiss, pulling them down his thighs. As he pulled the covers up over them, the fire crackled. And next to them, outside the window, it began to snow.

So denied

So I lied

Are you the now or never kind?

In a day

And a day, love

I'm gonna be gone for good again

He pressed her down into the mattress gently, red tresses like waves on his pillows.

Are you willing

To be had?

Are you cool with just tonight?

Here's a toast to all those

Who hear it all to well

Kicking undergarments from beneath the covers, he devoured her in kisses, teeth and tongue gnashing delicately against delicious skin, hands retracing lines he knew he already had, that already belonged to him. Her whispered gasps were all he needed to hear.

Here's to the nights we felt alive

Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry

Here's to goodbye

Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

Her mouth moved silently, in "oh"s and gasps, her back arching lusciously. As her feet moved across the sheets, her knees trembled, her giggles mingled.

Put your name

On the line

Along with place and time

Want to stay

Not to go

I want to ditch the logical

She never sat still, it was always something; he realized, halfway there, that it could be one of the last times to touch her, one of the last times to make her feel good. As he pressed beneath her skin, edging her back into the pillows, her nails scraped his back, her warm hands plastered to the slightly cold sweating skin.

Here's a toast to all those

Who hear it all to well

Here's to the nights we felt alive

Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry

Here's to goodbye

Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

The fire crackled loudly again, barely any noise in the room. He watched her, eyes closed, enjoying this moment. Closing his own eyes, he pictured her everywhere he'd ever seen her, every facial expression he'd ever known she had. Pressing his lips together, he shivered, seeing her smiling, laughing, crying, the most recent. He couldn't remember when he'd seen her _truly_ smile, like nothing else mattered. He pressed harder. She cried out.

All my time is frozen motion

Cant I stay an hour or two or more

Don't let me let you go

Here's a toast

To all those who hear me all too well

Here's to the nights we felt alive

Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry

Here's to goodbye

Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

Her panting was a gentle rhythm in his ears, egging him on as his vision went fuzzy, one last time, and she screamed; a sound he knew he'd treasure and bring back every time he was with her, if they made it through. He would make sure of it; he would make sure no one could make her feel like this but him.

Here's to the nights we felt alive

Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry

Here's to goodbye

Tomorrow's gonna come too soon

Her tears weren't really there, as he brushed them from her cheeks, her lips weren't really warbling as he kissed them, her knees weren't really shaking as he pulled her close to him, her red hair trickling down her shoulders onto her breasts. Thinking about it, he smiled, and kissed each one.

Aloud, she laughed. The sound was foreign and bubbly against the walls of his room.

"I knew it."

He looked up at her innocently.

"Knew what?"

She rose an eyebrow.

"That you'd like my new breasts."

"On the contrary. I don't like them."

She stared at him.

"Oh?"

He nodded passively, closing his eyes as he dragged his mouth down her neck.

"I love them," came the muffled reply, the vibration of his voice a tickle against her collarbone.

"I knew you would," she said again.

He rested the side of his cheek against her chest, half laying on top of her. Through the dark, the light was beginning to poke through. He laughed.

"What?"

"You know, if you had boobs like these when I met you, at the beginning of the year, I would've shagged you."

She pushed him off of her.

"Yeah, I wonder whatever happened to "just friends" anyway? I thought this was to get my brother and his goons riled?"

Her smile drained bit by bit, as his forehead creased.

"It started out that way, from like, the first day. I don't know what happened after that. I was extremely attracted to you - your hair, your extremely short skirt, the way people were looking at you…"

"By the looks of it, you still are," she giggled, turning away as her face reddened. Hardly embarrassed by this sudden show of emotion by his anatomy, he tackled her back into the pillows, mouth on her neck as he pushed her backwards.

"Draco," came the muffled laugh.

"Mmft hhmmdd stfffl," he mumbled, running his hands through her hair to pull her head back, giving more access to the sweet hollows of her throat.

"Draco."

He didn't reply, but she could feel his cold mouth just beneath her chin, working down.

"Draco, you're going to hurt the baby!" she said loudly, almost out of breath, and he suddenly scrambled off, backwards, one hand on her stomach and the other running through his hair.

"I'm sorry, little baby, I didn't mean to - " he began, before he glanced up into her silently laughing face, so creased her eyes were squinting and leaking with mirth.

"You ass!" he grumbled, tackling her back onto the bed.

She just laughed aloud now, easing up as his arms wrapped around her, his chin nestled onto her shoulder.

"I love you," he murmured a few minutes later, as the sun came up through the window, glinting in the sunlight. "I just hope you know that."

She took a deep, sighing breath, and nuzzled her nose against his cheek, pressing a small kiss against his cheek.

"I love you too," came the whispered reply, slowly and softly as she listened for his easy breathing, his grip loosening, gently.

As the sun exploded from behind snow covered mountains, she crept around the room, collecting her clothes and dressing quietly. Fumbling the latches of her coat, tears moistened her fingers as she watched him sleeping, curled up so tightly, his gentle glistening skin so soft looking in the easy morning light.

Pushing her feet into her boots, she pulled gloves from her pockets, pushing open the window. Examining the height from the sill, she swung one leg over - then another - and, looking back on last time, she pushed herself from the window, and was gone.

* * *

10 o'clock rolled around that next morning. Blaise came bustling through, one hand holding a food laden tray, the other shielding his blue eyes. 

Upon reaching Draco's desk, he groped to lay the tray down gently, before he covered his eyes with both hands. After a moment of silence, he peered quickly over his hands, only to drop them abruptly. Lying in the center of his bed, half covered, hugging a pillow to his chest, was his best friend, alone.

"Draco?"

The bed was empty, save for him; the window was wide and the room was cold. Blaise looked around, slightly angered, and sighed. Draco slept comfortably alone, cheek pressed into the pillow. On such occasions, Blaise would leave him, make up some excuse. Draco wouldn't have cared. But this was not one of those occasions. _Such a shame,_ Blaise thought. _He doesn't even know she's gone._

With a sudden boiling sensation in his veins, his hands suddenly came down hard on Draco's desk, jolting the sleeping boy awake.

"Bloody hell," Draco yelled, hand smacking his forehead, coming back down to rub his eyes. Pulling the covers up, Draco relaxed.

"Hey, Blaise. Ginny's gone to say hello, I'm guessing?"

Blaise shook his head. Unwanted thoughts filtered through. _Look at what she's done to him._

"No, Draco."

The desktop quivered beneath his fingertips, where they still rested gently.

Draco scrutinized him.

"Where is she?"

"Gone again."

His eyes narrowed.

"Gone? You're lying. What? What - "

"I'm thinking she used you, Draco."

Draco's narrowed eyes turned cold.

"All these weeks, I'd thought she was good, doing wonders for you - keeping you in line. But now, I realized she hasn't."

Eyes flashed.

"I didn't know you'd let your guard down."

'Guard down'? What?

"I - don't know what you're - "

"Yes you do, I know you do."

Blaise stared him in the eyes. Normally soft blue crystals were white ice; as he clenched his fists his fingers crackled. Draco rolled out of bed, clutching his sheet, taking cautious steps.

"Blaise, don't be like this… especially not when you're - "

"I bloody well am not!"

Draco backed to the bathroom door, snatching his wand along the way. As Blaise stepped toward him, his knees cracked loudly. The drawers and doors of his wardrobe and desk suddenly began to tremble, rattling loudly as they knocked together. Draco reached a hand back, grasping blindly for the bathroom doorknob.

"Blaise, listen to me," he said calmly, slowly. "You don't mean this. It's not you. You're just - "

"Oh but I _do!"_ he cried. Upon "do", he clenched his fists tightly; the air around them seemed to tremble. A girl down in the Common Room screamed loudly.

"Blaise, _stop!"_ he cried, turning the knob, ducking in just in time. On the other side of the door, glass began to crack and break. Two more screams were heard as the ground trembled. His mirror shrieked next to him.

"Why don't you _listen_! She's no good!"

The door shook. Down at the bottom, the wood cracked. Draco bit his lip, hard. _I'd never hurt Blaise._

"She'll run and leave you to _die!" _

Well, now you should, his mind argued.

As he came closer, the crack at the bottom scurried up the door, hitting the doorknob with a sudden _'bing'_, like a typewriter bell. He bit down, suddenly, on his lip so hard that the pain hit his face, blood flooding into his mouth.

Draco took a step back. _Do it_. He held up his wand. The door fell as Blaise came closer, everything suddenly extremely slow. The hinges squealed in protest. The door clapped the ground, the top barely brushing his toes. Blaise's white eyes stared him down.

"Ready to cooperate?" he said loudly.

Cold sweat dripped down Draco's back.

"I hate to do what I'm about to do, Blaise. You know I don't like to," he said quietly, still calm. His wand hand was still, but his wielded wand was shaking. His feet crackled… ice held him to the floor. Blaise stepped forward.

"You couldn't."

"I would, Blaise. I really would," he sighed, and just as Blaise was mid-lunge, Draco caught him with a sharp red jet of "_Stupefy!"_

Blaise's still form was silent and odd, oddly positioned as he fell to the floor. The ice around Draco's feet melted. The mirror was panting. Two girls down in the Common Room were still screaming. Someone ran past his door.

"It's coming from here!" they cried. "Get a teacher!"

Stumbling backwards, he released his wand and took trembling steps back, his calves brushing the edge of his filled tub. The water had been waiting for him to take a bath, this morning. But now the hot water had become cold, and still. As his wand clattered to the floor, he tripped back, flipping completely over, falling face first into the old water. His body's genes were slowly moving. He gazed at the bottom of the tub tiredly. It seemed so far away.

Frost danced across his back as he thought of Ginny, slept and gone. He thought of Blaise, stock-still and angry, uncontrolled on the floor behind him. He thought of his body, tingling as he tried to turn his face, leaving a long, slow wisp of blood, unaware of the ice that was now slick across his back, becoming one with the surface. He was about to sigh when the water froze around him, the bathwater which had run cold becoming a gigantic block that held his eyes and mouth open. The tub cracked down the side.

When Professor Snape burst through the door, he found one lying in an earthy rage, stock-still, and one frozen to his tub, a sheet draped around his stomach. Behind him, Professor McGonagall screamed beside herself.

* * *

He woke up to screaming in the Infirmary. The sound was earsplittingly close, and as he jerked awake he shivered gently, pulling the sheet to himself. Then he heard it. 

"There's Death Eaters in Hogsmeade! Death Eaters in Hogsmeade! There's been an attack!"

The words hit him, suddenly, the knowledge brain-shaking.

They're attacking Hogwarts.

He turned his head to look at the calendar, teeth chattering.

Friday.

He jumped out of bed, pulling on clothes folded in a chair beside his bed. Gloves, jacket, scarf, and then he groped wildly for his wand, finding it in a satin case on his bedside table. He looked out the doors. Two nurses stood behind the fuzzy glass. He looked at the window.

Jump it.

He had pushed it open and was easing himself onto the sill, when he saw the bed beside him. Blaise's stupefied form was lying there, his head turned, staring directly at him. Draco slowly got down, walking across the room to the bed. He sat down in a chair, looking him over. He shivered.

"I'm fine," Blaise said, grinning.

Draco tapped his fingers on the bed cover. Guilt washed over him.

"You know, I didn't really mean to - you know I'd never - not intentionally - " he stammered, but Blaise laughed.

"Not your fault. I'm fine, aren't I? Never better. Now, you're going to Hogsmeade, right? Take the path under the witch with the hump. And, do me a favor."

Draco looked at him.

"What?"

Maliciousness seeped into Blaise's eyes.

"Give me my wand."

Draco eyed him dangerously.

"Why?"

"If I'm going to join you, I'll need a little help from Mr. Persuasion."

Grinning, Draco slid the wand between Blaise's fingers.

* * *

The little village seemed so far away from the tunnel. Running and running, he finally came upon a trap door and a staircase, and hastily pushed it up, heaving himself over the side. Pushing numerous crates aside in haste, he ran up the steps, banging the door open. Rushing past the shopkeeper and several stunned, frightened students, he burst through the door, out onto the cold, empty streets. Turning his head from side to side, he sought the attackers. A sudden scream burst the silence from down the road. He ran toward it, mind rushing. His face felt frozen. 

He skidded to an icy halt outside Madame Puddifoot's, and, peering through the windows he glimpsed about 27 frightened students, mostly couples, huddled in a corner behind the counter, some crying and screaming and yelling at each other, some desperately clinging to another.

In the corner, two Death Eaters were standing, guarding the door that led back to the kitchen. From inside, there were what looked like two men cornering something or someone in the room. Draco took a deep breath and attempted to listen, but the whines and cries were too loud. He slipped through the door, having not yet been seen. Sliding himself against the wall, he watched the kitchen door closely.

The two silhouettes were shouting, and above all the wailing in the corner Draco couldn't even begin to make out what they were saying. A hand made a slashing movement; the cornered person shrieked. A thin slice of shadow rose into the air, and Draco realized, as he was hauling himself, shoulders scrunched to push past the Death Eaters, that it was a wand, and the cornered silhouette was Ginny.

The door fell from its hinges, the metal icy and cracked now, to hit someone on the other . His father stumbled at the impact, holding his head with his empty hand. The person next to him, an icy blond headed boy with both Lucius and Draco's exact looks, turned his head to face him, wielding his wand. Draco looked from Ginny to the man, to his father, who held a trembling wand so close to his nostrils a small shudder would send it to his brain.

His eyes traveled rapidly, sliding to search one end or the other for some route of escape.

"Seems like we've got him," Lucius said in a snarling drawl, his wand moving slightly as he swaggered. Draco held his hands up slightly, but when Lucius blinked back pain Draco's knee shot out, hitting his old man right in the crotch. The other fellow, slightly startled at this act of masculinity and speed, quickly stepped over Lucius's writhing form, his own wand waving in Draco's face.

Draco looked up. His own cold, platinum pale features were mirrored back at him, and upon instinct he held back the urge to reach out and touch the image before him. The same platinum hair, the same pointed face. Even his masculinity was relevant to his own. Then he looked into the face, the mouth that grimaced in slight pain, the bottom lip that quivered anxiously. Sharp green clouded eyes stared back at him, hardly registered. Draco, seeing Ginny's fear-masked confusion out of the corners of his eyes, grimaced back. He took a deep, steadying breath, resisting the urge to yell, and said, as calmly as possible, "Why, if it isn't Lucien Bonn."

From the corner where she was huddled, Ginny gasped.

* * *

**Okay, so! Anyway! That's all, folks!**

**The credit goes to Jo and Warner, who make these books/movies happen. The talent comes from me, and credit goes to mrs. Rose/ms. Chapman/mrs. Shubert because they've been awesome English teachers… even though mrs. Shubert reminds me of an irate owl.**

**Okay, so. The song of this chapter is a little old, and a little off; called Here's To The Night by Eve 6, from the album _Horrorscope. _chaa… yeah. Okay.**

**BYEEEE**


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

**Author: _Moi_**

**Summary : Oh, come on. A little old... **

* * *

Okay, this chapter is a little stupid. You might not like it, you might think it's stupid, but I dunno. It's got a lot of confusion, it'll lead to loads of questions. But my plot is unraveling faster than wet yarn, and its killing me. I'm gaining ideas and losing ideas, and characters, but I don't want to bring it out of its elements, and I'm getting all these scenes on paper that go in complete circles, and it makes me want to go, "Argh!" 

Yeah, okay.

_**

* * *

**_

The wand before him trembled as the person before him stood, sweat on his brow, only aware of the man that mirrored his looks. Draco's mind flashed.

"_You can't hide there!" a child cried. _

"_Blaise said I could!" the opposite stomped. _

_An alabaster figure jumped onto the first child's back, once-shining black shoes scuffed and dirty as he took him down. _

"_I got you, Draco! We got you!" Blaise laughed._

"_I'm not Draco! I'm not Draco!" _

"_Liar, liar!" the second child smirked, staring down at them. The first child looked up at him, pleading. Dark eyes watered._

"_You promised!" _

_Blaise crawled off the first, letting him clamber to his knees. _

"_You said you wouldn't do it and you did! You promised!" _

"_I didn't promise! I didn't promise!" _

"_Did so!" _

"_Did not!" _

"_What did he do?" Blaise intervened, but Draco shushed him._

"_He doesn't know what he's talking about."_

"_Liar!"_

"_You're a liar!" _

"_I'm telling!"_

"_Fine!" _

So many things he'd done to the poor bloke. And now look at him. Tied to his father's will, warily holding a wand with fuzzy eyes.

There was a certain pain to his face, as if the opposite seventeen-year-old found it an emotional burden to point such a powerful source at such a once-close person.

The point trembled at his heart. Lucius folded to his knees, gripping a nearby tabletop to help himself up. The air was tense.

Ginny slid down the wall, eyes red. Time was slow as Lucius said, "I don't care what orders are. Kill him, boy."

All very suddenly Draco peered into Lucien's eyes - memories of a once-childhood gathered faintly at the corners of his poor blank mind. The Imperius held him well.

Draco shook his head, sweat gathering on his forehead. The only sounds were heavy breathing and the sniffling and scuttling of Ginny's nose and boots as she rustled around, staring.

The wand traveled to his face. Despite himself, Draco sighed, realizing that - without obvious communication - there was no possibly sane way out of this that left the both of them unharmed.

Lucien took a deep, whisper of breath, the words gathering on his pale lips. His mouth had barely parted when, from the corner, there was a gentle murmur, and a sigh. The two blondes turned simultaneously .

The girl at the wall sat, slightly slumped. Her head lolled against the roughly red-painted cinderblock, her eyes half lidded. Draco looked down at her, her feet scraping against the floor.

"Don't kill him," she said quietly. "Please don't kill him, don't kill him…"

Lucius snorted, now standing upright. His hands were empty, and the look of worry on his face told them he had lost his wand when he fell. The overturned tables and puddles of now-cold tea littered the floor - the stick of enchanted wood was nowhere to be seen.

A crash outside the doorway hardly registered as the limp figure in the corner mumbled. A familiar voice barked. The floor rattled; déjà vu swept over him. Then silence.

All else motion stopped. Three men with exact looks stared into the face of a loony young girl. She kicked her feet, her voice growing louder. Just as she was reaching the height of a scream, Lucius broke the stare.

"Stun her, kill her, shut her _up!_" he yelled.

Lucien stared at Ginny, wand trembling. Through his eyes Draco knew he was breaking through. His wand arm faltered. Draco's eyes pleaded with him.

_Don't do it, Lucien, you can't you won't, please, don't do it - you can remember me. Remember me._

The opposite blonde looked into his eyes.

_The dirt road that started at the gates was dusty and unsettled - 2 carriages bustled up the drive. Draco raced after them, merely 5, his small white legs pumping as he laughed, curiosity catching him._

_A blonde boy stepped out of the second carriage. Draco stopped in his tracks, peering down at the opposite boy. He looked down at himself, and then back to the boy, who did the same. Stepping toward each other, they circled cautiously, searching for flaws. Draco finally stopped, turning to face him. Staring, he reached up his hand, touching the boys cheek. Upon the feeling of warm flesh, his hand dropped down, as if shocked. A stout woman with defined features stepped behind the child. _

"_Lucien, this is Draco. He'll be your playmate."_

_Draco had never seen another one like him - he vowed, never in his life, to forget this face._

And now here it was, and he was trying desperately to make it stop, to break free. He almost had something - a flicker of life - when Lucius's eyes drifted between them, before he burst through. His pale, wrinkled hand reached out and grabbed Lucien's wand hand, wielding it defiantly at the screaming Ginny.

All at once Draco's eyes blinked, so slowly he hardly saw what happened. A burst of energy and a burst of speech, a green light -

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

And that was the end.

**(A/N: You know, I could've cut it here - I bet one of you would've cried, but you know, I'm so lover-ly to you all, so REVIEW IT…)**

Or so he thought.

Draco's voice caught in his throat as the green jet hit her stomach, the force biting the words from her tongue as it pounded her into the wall. Blaise appeared in the doorway, wand wielded, eyes wide. They traveled slowly to the tears in Draco's eyes to the closed face of a redheaded girl, to the ruined kitchen before finally falling back on Ginny.

No one moved.

The veins on his forehead bulged uncontrollably; Lucius gasped at the sudden change of atmosphere. Draco reached out to touch Blaise, restrain him somehow, but suddenly the alabaster boy was lunging at Draco's father, the impact sending both he and Lucien flying. The two Death Eaters rolled in the doorway, faces bleeding. As Blaise grabbed Lucius's robes, the old man screamed in terror, his body trembling. Draco watched, stock still, his mind frozen, as Blaise's face neared the old man's, his snarl echoing. Lucius's eyes rolled back in his pinched face, sweat forming on his brow, gliding down his white face. Blaise had his fist raised now, knuckles cracking, rearing back for a good strike, when Draco grabbed his fist, fingers cool and halting. Though his voice was cracking, Blaise made out,

"Blaise, no."

The whimpering man crumbled at Blaise's feet as Draco pointed unsteadily. Ginny, who had been quite accurately hit by the spell, was still whimpering, her body shaking. Motioning to Blaise to grab Lucien, Draco scooped up Ginny. The back door hinges cracked, a hint.

"Out there," Draco barked quietly. With a last snarling glance at his father, they emerged from the kitchen into the alleyway.

The alley was empty and the ground was slick; the melting icicles were the only noise next to Ginny's whimpers, her face incredibly pale, but she was still vividly alive, crying slightly, mumbling incoherently, Draco murmuring back.

Lucien's crumpled, now unconscious form was slung over Blaise's shoulder, and Blaise looked behind him warily. Her head hung over Draco's arm. His pinched face tilted as he nodded forward.

"In there."

Blaise kicked in the door, pushing past rubble and remains of old inhabitants. He dropped Lucien haphazardly onto an abandoned table, being only as careful as not to crack his head. Ginny wobbled gently as Draco stood her up, unclasping her coat where the green glowed, throwing it to Blaise, who admired it curiously, careful not to touch the glowing fabric. Draco kneeled before her, his eyes falling upon the green tainted flesh.

"It's a spell-repellant coat. Cost a pretty penny, but it worked, somewhat. A good Christmas present."

Ginny held his shoulder as he pulled up her shirt, eyes lying on the slowly dying flesh. The wound was spreading. Blaise gasped.

"It - it stopped it somewhat?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer when the green light brightened. The redheaded girl shuddered, eyes rolling back, before they widened.

"Draco, what if it -," she gasped lightly. Draco looked at her. Blaise, hardly hearing, said nothing.

"Draco, stop it," he said.

"What?"

"Stop it, freeze it, do something!"

"But her body's - "

"_Freeze it."_

Draco looked at him. Ginny clutched his shoulder. The stubbornness in Blaise's eyes was strong. He swore.

"Fine."

"What - ?"

"Don't say a word," he ground out, examining her stomach.

Seconds passed.

"How do I do it? Blaise, _help!_"

"Just focus."

"What?"

"Focus!"

"I don't - "

A hand grasped Draco angrily on the shoulder, the reflexes of his hands clenching his fingers. They tingled unexpectedly at the joints, and Ginny let out a small howl - and then nothing. Her body, through warm, was frozen in its state. He looked up at Blaise, who ducked down to assess the situation. His finger traced the green. Draco held his breath. Blaise nodded.

"Here."

His finger traced a wide area of stomach.

"You should be glad you caught it when you did. Her body temperature is so warm her molecules are flying. The spell would've hit her central system in mere seconds - perhaps only a minute more, and she'd not be breathing."

Draco caressed the tender flesh.

"Now what?"

Blaise stared at the wound.

"Cut it out."

Draco nearly gagged on the breath he swallowed.

"_Cut it out?_"

Blaise nodded sternly. He swept his fingers over the wound again, being careful not to touch it too roughly.

"Here. An incision. You break it up, gently, freeze it more. Melt it. Drain it - heal it. Done deal."

Draco looked at him with a wild rage in his eyes.

"Do you know what's in there? _Do you?_"

Blaise looked at him, the bold lack of knowledge blinding Draco's eyes.

"A BABY! We could _kill _a BABY!"

Blaise raised an eyebrow - his shock clearly didn't cover his worry.

"Baby or not, Draco, if you don't do this - she'll die. They both will."

He swallowed dryly, looking down at his hands.

"What if I mess it up? Fumble - what if I lose concentration?"

"'Lose concentration' my ass. Just do it - don't think about the baby. Think of getting it out of there."

He sighed.

"But what if - "

"Draco."

He glanced up into stern eyes.

"Go."

"What if - what if I get the rest of her body still, and melt this, just this?"

Blaise looked at him.

"Do it."

"You cut it - I can't."

"Me?"

"No, Blaise, the unconscious idiot behind you," he snapped impatiently.

"Why didn't you just say so?" he snapped back, whipping out his wand.

Squeezing his eyes tight shut, Draco tried not to listen to the sickening noises as Blaise commenced cutting out the throbbing green mass of human. In his mind, the logic he had long ago put away fought to resurface.

"_Absurd. You're pulling out part of a person. Crazy. This is all in your head - unreal," _the voice in his mind squealed in outrage.

Blaise placed his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco fought internally for control.

"_Don't look up, its not real, you're imagining this.." _it hissed.

"Take a gander, Draco," Blaise's soft voice murmured.

All too soon his eyes jerked open, and he had to fight not to gag, or cry out; glowing there, throbbing but warm and still, was a shelf-like portion of her insides. A womb; a small baby, not even a _fist_ was enveloped in a bubble of jelly-like membrane. Tears perked to his eyes as it was still. Despite himself he half reached out, his finger tracing the off-pink bubble. Then it hit him - '_It's still alive.'_

His sudden enthusiasm knocked Blaise backward a ways, bumping the table where Lucien lay. The small, weak wooden fixture wobbled, then gave a groan and collapsed, the blonde boy falling with the heap. Upon contact with the ground, the boy cried out, eyes jerking open. Blaise reeled unexpectedly backwards again into Draco, who was concentrating hard on conjuring the little warmth in his body to melt the frozen poison before him.

The sudden jolt jabbed his hand, the finger held before the womb pressing sternly against it. Sucking in a breath, Draco watched the being turn slowly, tiny stick-like limbs swirling in pink liquid. he gave a joyous cry and felt the warmth flood through him, slowly. Squeezing his eyes tight shut again, he focused on the blob of green. His body rocked with tremors of hidden heat - some odd power uncovered in seconds. The two figures behind him were still, both necks craned to watch the progress. Blaise opened his mouth to murmur, but just as the words gathered on his lips, Draco's face began to pale. He gasped suddenly, and Blaise watched green slowly begin to ebb from her stomach, down his fingers to his wrists, where it dripped slowly onto his boots.

The boy behind Blaise gasped.

"_Il Veleno Verde,"_ he stammered, standing up, watching the poison._The Green Poison._

Blaise, knocking aside several jugs from a nearby sill, grabbed a jar, diving to catch the falling drops. Draco, hardly startled, continued to concentrate. Time passed like hours. None of them moved, each still and silent. Finally, Blaise pulled away the green jar. Nothing dripped. Nothing happened. Pulling away his hands, Blaise peered in.

"We got it all where it counted," he said quietly.

Draco looked up at him.

"'Where it counted'? You mean we didn't get it all!"

Blaise looked again. Despite the niggling gagging feeling in his throat, he shifted organs. _(A/n: **Ughhh..)**_

"This won't cause much damage. She's got _some_ left, yes - a little lining her left kidney - she might have lost a shitload of cells among other things, but with the reproduction rate of meiosis and mitosis I think the membranes will evolve immune to the poison - plus, the permeability will change - her ion channels will close. No worries."

He sealed the jar, shrinking it slowly as he slipped it gently into his pocket.

Draco stared on at him, unblinkingly.

"'No worries?'"

"Well, I'm not worried. Now, lets get her fixed up."

Not saying a word, he closed his eyes as he waited for Blaise to push it back in. When he got a signaling tap on his shoulder, he set his wand to her stomach, only opening his eyes to lay a second set of stitching. When that was done and they'd laid a quiet safety spell, Blaise knelt forward to lay an isolation barrier. Stepping back, Blaise moved in front of her, Draco behind. Gently, slowly, her body began to unwind, her molecules speeding up, her body magically recuperating, her eyes jolting open as she gasped for breath. Draco held her hands to keep her from scratching at the stitching.

"Unsteady," Blaise said nonchalantly, moving toward her, hands raised. Instinctively, she was frazzled, confused at why Draco was holding her down, why Blaise had that odd look in his eye.

"What?" she slurred, her mind slowly balancing.

"Hold her - she's pulling it," he said now. Draco slightly tightened his grip on her arms, pulling her against him.

"Let go of - " she began, turning her head. Her body gave a lurch.

"She should pass out in -" he looked at his watch " - five, four, three, two -"

Then, suddenly, her body gave a shudder and her figure went limp. Blaise gave a small push, pressing his ear to her chest as she fell into Draco's now-outstretched arms.

"I'm thinking she's good," he said, checking his watch again. Draco rested her gently on the floor.

"Bandage her up - I'll go do something with him," Blaise said, jerking his thumb at Lucien.

"Do something with me?" the other boy demanded, fear quaking in his voice.

Blaise grinned.

"Yes, I'm going to tie you to my bedposts and whip your ass raw."

"Blaise," Draco sighed.

"Fine, fine, I won't. But we _are_ going to have to search you, you know. Tie you up and all that jazz."

Draco nodded to Lucien.

"Find another building - somewhere warmer, safer," he said softly to Blaise, who was peering down at Ginny. Even in her state of dreamless sleep, her lips were purpling and her arms and legs were trembling.

"Aye aye, Captain," he said quietly, and, taking hold of Lucien's arm, jerked him through the still-open doorway, out into the harsher cold of January.

He cast a gentle spell around her, for warmth, and levitated her evenly at eye level as he sat down. Her sleeping was stiff, and didn't go limp in the air; he muttered a quiet spell and pulled bandages from the tip of his wand. Then, standing again, he shuffled about the room, sifting through old bottles and kegs. Towards the back of a shelf, he found a jar of liquid antibiotics, a sponge, and then, as he searched in an old closet, a metal bucket. He sat down wearily in front of her, dousing the sponge with antibiotics. Subtly, he patted the rough stitching with the antibiotics, trying to think of how much better it was that she was alive than dead.

* * *

Blaise pulled his trousers down, then his shirt, the blonde boy flinching as his fingers touched his skin. His shirt was gone, his pants, his shoes and his socks. But the alabaster figure was kind enough to cast a slight warming charm on the floor, so his sensitive feet wouldn't freeze.

He was kneeling down, tying the black rope around silver ankles, when something caught his eye. He hadn't been looking for details, but this simply jumped out - a star-like marr of skin on his thigh. Blaise dragged his fingers gently over it, tracing the outline. He looked away, thinking, and then retied the rope, forcing the boy into a silver chair. Then he stood, taking him in once again, and said, quietly, "You got off easy. Remember that."

Then he turned toward the door, and left.

* * *

He tied the bandages tightly while she chewed her nails. She had awoken sometime mid-wrap, levitated into the air while he circled her waist repeatedly, first gently with the sponge, and then with the gauzy bandage, such gentle movements from such a masculine figure. She kept her arms tucked up and in, not complaining as the pain in her stomach seemed to slowly subside. He had just tied off the last ribbon, letting her down slowly, when her hand covered her mouth. He instinctively reached for the bucket, squeezing his eyes shut as her sickness lessened. He waited, stroking her hair with nimble fingers, touching her flushed face. He waited and waited. And waited. Half an hour seemed to pass with nothing but steady breathing.

When he finally looked up, he realized she'd fallen asleep again. He sighed, pulling her hand from the rim of the pail, sliding an arm around her waist. Gently, without hurting or waking her, he pulled her from the floor, pulling his arms to enclose her body. He had just stood when Blaise burst through the door.

"I've found a place. Just across the air shaft, here. The old apartment of Zonko's."

Draco nodded.

He carried her across the air shaft, shielding her face from the cold, into the abandoned back apartment of Zonko's. Blaise stood nearby to the side, Lucien strangely undressed, clothes folded and stacked neatly beside him. He sat in a silver, straight-backed iron chair, black rope wound around his hands and feet. He stared angrily at Draco, whose wary gaze flickered on and off between anger and worry. At last, he tucked a blanket around her, then another, turning from the small cot in the corner. Lucien stared at her. His face was blank.

"Is she - " he faltered, voice trembling. Draco stared at him.

"No," he said coldly.

"Well, is she - " Lucien began, but Draco bit out, "Is it any of your business?"

Lucien paled.

"I just wanted to know if - "

"Save it. Don't ask another word of her."

Blaise glanced at Lucien with a gentle concern that Draco caught as he murmured, "Draco - ".

"Blaise," he said stiffly, "Go outside for a moment, please."

Blaise looked at him.

"What?"

"You heard me," Draco barked. "Outside. Now."

Blaise took a step forward.

"Now don't you get all big and - "

"Outside!" Draco cried. A gentle mewling sounded. Heads snapped to Ginny, who rolled onto her other side.

"Don't, Draco. You can't."

"You can't tell me what to do."

Blaise's face pulled together, before he took one step, then another, toward the door.

When it slammed, Draco locked it. Blaise, in outrage, slammed his fist against the wall. Hardly listening, Draco placed his wand tip to Lucien's temple. The boy shivered in his boxers, watching the white strand of his memory float into a nearby jar. Sealing it tightly, he placed it into a conjured padded box.

"Now, then. I'm not going to search you, I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not going to let you go," he said sternly. Lucien looked at him.

"You've been under the Imperious, you were captured by the Death Eaters, and now you're going to serve your time by helping us out," he went on. The bedcovers rustled. Lucien stared in a worried fashion, but Draco ignored it.

"I imagine you're oblivious to my father and his "pals" and his plans," he said, pacing. "But now you have information, valuable information, how little it may be. No, now that I think about it, I can't risk your going out in public in all sorts of crazy, babbling about special powers and melting curses, pregnant ladies and gay people. No. My father's too smart for that. He'll know. No, now you've got to tag along, haven't you."

Lucien opened his mouth. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Rhetorical question, Lucien."

The boy nodded. Draco sat on the side of the bed, running a hand through her hair, staring down at her fondly, worriedly. After a minute, he looked up.

"The night they kidnapped you," Draco said quietly, slowly, his mind working as he gazed upon the boy. And then, slowly, as he shifted, his left arm turned as well, revealing a mar of twisted black in the shape of what would've appeared to be a skull and a snake. But as Draco jumped up, he pulled out his wand, taking hold of Lucien's arm as he turned it into better light, baring the mark toward himself.

"This isn't - "

"Real, I know," Lucien said. Draco looked at it.

"Why - "

"My parents. They wanted it - I didn't. I left - faked it. Beauxbatons didn't say a lot of anything, they didn't care - I was coming back for Christmas, and I was gone."

Draco looked at him. His eyes raked cleverly over his body, searching for some other symbol his stupid father would recognize vaguely in his brandy-plagued mind. His eyes caught a stitch in skin. Without hesitation, he knelt before his left thigh, running a thumb over the mark, like Blaise had.

"It's a .." Draco trailed. All of a sudden, he pulled up his right pant leg, pulling his finger over his own scar - a star shaped stitch from his younger, battling-with-Pothead days. He touched Lucien's, then his own, before murmuring, slowly, "…star."

He sat back.

"He kidnapped you at the station near Christmas, because - "

" - he thought I was you, yes," Lucien said, excited and giddy, nodding lively. Draco stood and sat at the cot, chin in hands.

"The others. Why the others?"

Draco looked at him, closely, mind unwinding. He pulled facts together. Two males, a female. The train station near the Manor - the look of hidden fear on Giles's face. His mother's out-of-it-manner. And last of all, the resemblance of Lucien to himself.

"What did they look like?" he asked slowly, eyes traveling to Lucien's face. The boy looked up, smirking devilishly.

"One was a redheaded chit - not that pretty - "

"I didn't ask if they were hot, I only want to know what resemblance they have with us," he spluttered, then noticed, he _didn't_ care if she was hot. And it scared him. But he didn't say a word.

Lucien looked at him, closing his eyes.

"One looked very much like Blaise, almost exactly alike, but with different eyes and his nose had been broken a time or two. The other didn't really look like her - a little fatter, if you will, and with long, curly hair."

Draco thought of it.

"Fatter, you say?" he asked, and Lucien nodded.

"Chubbier, but only around the waist."

"Maybe, uhm, pregnant looking, would you say?" he ventured.

Lucien nodded enthusiastically.

"Almost just so. They were going to get on a train to King's Kross, when they were just - you know - g-gone."

Draco, almost giddy with knowledge, stood to go unlock the door, when Ginny jerked up and emitted a scream, holding her wrist. Outside, growling and shouting pursued. Draco looked at the door.

"Damn," he said.

* * *

**Well well well! We've done it again! **

**I'm terribly, _terribly_ sorry for the wait, Marching Season ended and concert's coming up, so that'll give me more time. You have to know that I can only write on holidays when my Mum isn't home and Tuesdays, when she has bible study, so you have got to give me a little credit…**

**But the most credit goes to Jo and her boys, who made these books happen. Bravo, Jo. Bravo. **

**This chapter doesn't have a song, so I'm sorry. Business, and I couldn't find a good one to put, so. Yeah. **

**Am hope hope hoping to have the next one up by Christmas, so. **

**Review. **

**Eh. **


	20. Chapter 20

**Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

**Author: _Moi_**

**Summary : Oh, come on. A little old... **

-

Hermione braced herself against the cold, pulling her toboggan over her ears, stretching her fingers tighter into her gloves. She waited in the middle of the road as Ron and Harry searched store after store in the little, petrified town of Hogsmeade. They had heard the screams of alarm from the school, and instinctively passed the Infirmary - no Draco, no Blaise. A sixth sense told them where they'd find the two, and maybe, just maybe, Ron's baby sister.

Now the streets were empty, and one by one the students were being secretly Apparated out of the stores they hid in. Aurors appeared from nowhere. On the inside of panic, Hermione thought it was absurd.

And too bloody cold.

The air wrapped around her, lifting her hair and the ends of her scarf. It bit angrily at her face, but worked as a crystal clear megaphone, carrying the voices of her friends. She pulled her scarf around her and took a few steps, a few unsteady steps, her feet cold and asleep. She had almost made it to the shop, when a sudden sight through a glimpse of alleyway caught her eyes. Frazzled, she stopped, peering closer to see, in awe, a dark, alabaster figure standing in a doorway. He looked up, and his eyes met Hermione's. She gasped, and came forward. Blaise moved away, cautious. She raised her hand.

"Blaise!" she cried quietly, rushing forward. He leaned against the wall, slyly staying away from the door.

"Well well well," he said quietly. "Look who appeared."

"Why are you out here? The Death Eaters attacked, and you're standing here like you're waiting for afternoon tea."

He shrugged.

"I am a tad bit thirsty."

Her glare cut his sarcasm. He shifted.

"Why are you here, talking to me? Perhaps I'm hiding, perhaps I'm set to kill you. You're a stupid girl, you know that?"

Hermione stopped, looking at him, slightly hurt.

"Death Eaters, Harry and Ron - you know."

"Yeah, so? Why are you out here, alone? Are they out of their minds? I could be one of them, yet you're out here, wandering around, alone." He thought it was stupid, absurd.

She looked at him, then shrugged.

"Well, I'm not alone anymore, am I."

He laughed.

"Is that supposed to be you, hitting on me?"

She blushed, flustered.

"N-no, not at all."

Gravel crunched. Panting. She turned to see into the crevices of alleyway, while Blaise shifted to hide his discomfort again. Part of him pulled, only slightly; part of him that felt hot as her sarcasm hit him.

"'Mione? Where are you?" came a voice. A redheaded voice. Blaise cringed, forcing the well of feelings that threatened to ooze from his open fissures to stay down.

"I'm here," she called back, quietly. Blaise scowled. The two boys rounded the corner, stopping abruptly.

"Hullo, Blaise," Harry said stonily.

"Hey," Ron said, gazing at him. Blaise stared back, unaffected.

"Well, the Golden Trio strikes again. What you want, pretty boy?"

Harry snorted. Blaise shot him a look.

"I do believe I was talking to Ron."

His face fell as confusion enveloped him.

"We want to know if you've seen Ginny."

"Weaselette? No, I don't think so. Isn't she missing?"

Harry coughed.

"She appears to be. I haven't seen her since Christmas - but word has it that you have."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah that's so."

He stood, impassive.

"Ah. I heard she was - "

Hermione eyeballed him, hoping for a hint. Blaise swallowed his phrase, scrambling for a new story.

" - sick. Yes, terrible virus before she left. Scarred her for life, they said." _Ha, scars. Blaise, you're an idiot._

Ron gasped. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"How would you know?"

Blaise's smooth, cool eyes fell on Ron, easy and gullible.

"Even if I did know, would I tell you?"

"Yes?" Ron ventured. Hermione elbowed him.

"Anyway," Blaise said nonchalantly, hiding his nervousness, "I think its not safe for you three to be here. Lots of stuff going on. Voldie's boys could be after you, Pothead."

"Or something else," Hermione said quietly, eyeing him again. Blaise scowled again, glancing anxiously around, searching the empty streets. Finally his eyes fell back to Hermione, who stared back almost dreamily. The look on her face startled him so, and he backed into the wall, pressing his hands into his pockets. Had this girl gone daft? Surely she knew he was -

"Say, aren't you supposed to be in the Infirmary still, Blaise?"

Harry's voice was constrained and he quickly moved next to Hermione, as if to shield her.

"Say, aren't you supposed to be locked away tight, Precious Potter?" he retorted dryly, lazily drawing an eyebrow. Ron shuffled his feet.

"We should go, Harry. If she's here, he won't tell, and I'm not getting killed."

Blaise had just opened his mouth to create a sly remark when he squealed, suddenly, and grabbed his forearm, muttering to himself. Harry had begun to retort, but Hermione immediately pushed him out of the way, making a grab at Blaise's arm.

"Hey, what're you - "

"Why do you have this, Blaise?" she growled angrily.

"What'd you mean, 'why -'"

"Who does this connect with?"

"Connect with? Connect with? What're you - "

Hermione ran the tips of her fingers over the jewels. From the other side of the wall, a scream issued. Ron pushed past her angrily, getting right in Blaise's face.

"I think you're lying, Are you keeping her in there? Let me in."

Blaise dropped his face to look Ron in the eyes.

"How do you know that's her at all?"

Ron stared up, steady.

"It's her. I know. She's my baby sister."

"'Baby sister.' You got that right, and that's just how you treat her, hmm?"

Blaise looked around. He angrily jerked his hand away, staring all of them in the face.

"You think you know, hmm? You don't know. And here you're demanding to be part of something that could either scare you or kill you dead. You don't care, do you, Potter?"

Harry's face paled some, but he didn't back down. He started angrily toward the door, Hermione following.

Blaise sidestepped in front of them.

"You can't go in there."

"Just why the bloody hell not?" Ron cried, forcing Blaise's arm down. Just as he was reaching for the doorknob, the door burst open, and Draco's stricken face appeared.

"Blaise, we need to go."

Blaise looked past him - Lucien was helping Ginny to the opposite door, which led to the outside, presumably. Blaise pressed past, deciding to let Draco deal. But he had gotten no further then two steps when he felt an extremely un-Draco-like figure at his side. Ron stood stubbornly when Blaise halted, face straight. Draco was latching the door, indecipherable as ever, Harry and Hermione shuffling awkwardly about before them.

"What are they -"

"Take them. Lucien knows where to go. We need to leave… now."

He stalked past him, walking to Ginny, who stood, leaning against the doorway, eyes closed.

Blaise caught up with Draco, touching his arm.

"Why - why do we have to go so quick? Surely she's not already right."

Draco stopped, and looked at Blaise.

"The scream. They heard the scream. I guarantee you they're coming this way. We need to hide."

"Why is all this - what is that look on your face?"

Then the thought hit him again. His eyes lit up.

"I _know_, Blaise. I know why those three got kidnapped. Look at Lucien… look at me. Do you see the resemblances? Did you see them when you tied him up?"

Blaise's mouth was a tiny fish opening, a tiny gash gasping for breath.

"They took you because they _thought_ it was you?"

"Apparently I overestimated my father. What with all the pictures of me he smashed.. He must not know what I actually look like."

Then there was a change in atmosphere again, a sudden shift that dizzied everyone, including Ginny, who mumbled incoherently.

"We need to hide," he said again.

"Where?"

"The next building over. There's a false wall near the back chimney. Behind it, there's a hall with a few doors, maybe five. There's a trap door beneath the Persian rug. Take them down the trap door. Give a whistle when they're gone."

Blaise looked at him.

"You're serious, aren't you."

Draco had never looked so serious in his life, and Blaise sighed.

"I thought so. Okay," he said, to no one in particular, and pulled his wand out.

Draco folded the forgotten jacket along with a small padded box, and shrunk them down, slipping them into his pocket.

Ron had walked past them, and almost reached his younger sister when a cold, halting hand landed on his shoulder. He turned, shivers flooding down his spine.

"What?" he said gruffly, brushing the hand from his shoulder. Draco stared beyond them, at Blaise.

"You and the other two go with Blaise and Lucien. We're being searched, and the fastest way back is by Floo - except, all the Floo channels have been watched and in some areas blocked. If you try, there's a good possibility that if you get through, they'll either take you, or follow you through the channel. We're going to have to wait - hide. When they're satisfied they've found no trace, they'll leave and we'll escape. It's pie."

Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"You just said yourself the only way out is blocked. What about the passage in Honeyduke's? Flying?"

"Use your sense, Potter. Death Eater's attacking - Dumbledore's bound to have those sealed. And flying - you want to wear your auntie's Easter bonnet along the journey? Chant and sing, while you're at it?"

Despite herself, Ginny emitted a feeble giggle. Draco's warmth flooded in again at hearing her, but his face was still grim. Ron looked at her - and then at Draco.

"What about her, and you? You're just going to take off?"

Draco glared coldly.

"You wouldn't want to be in my shoes - or hers."

"I would gladly step into her shoes to save her from you, and them, even if I don't know what's going on!"

Draco was close to breaking. He backed Ron into the wall, fists fogged as they clutched Ron's robes. He took in a deep breath, a breath that seemed to freeze his lungs. Draco wondered why, in all these years, he was uncontrolled, emotional, unstable and confusing, his body betraying him.

"You think I don't want to save her? You think I wanted her in this, stuck like me? You can blame yourself! If you hadn't ridden her as always, she wouldn't have come to me! Blame yourselves, you slimy goody-goodies!"

Ron stared down at his own fists, and everyone was quiet. Inwardly, Draco was surprised he'd backed down so fast.

"Don't talk to me about that, Weasley. Just let us do what we have to do."

Ron turned his head.

"Keep her safe, Malfoy. That's all. Cause if you don't - "

"Yeah yeah, beaten to a bloody pulp, I got it," he smirked. Ginny gave a delicate smile.

Hermione clutched Harry's arm, who lowered his head, only slightly. Draco touched Ginny's shoulder, and then, ever gentle, pulled her up into his arms. She protested eagerly, her strength flooding back to her, slowly.

"You three, follow them. Blaise, use your senses. When they're gone, give a whistle."

"Wait!" Harry cried. "How come we're to go down the trap door and you're to go in a little room by yourselves? Isn't it safer if we all split up together?"

Draco shook his head.

"Potter, we're in something deep. They won't hurt us, because we're valuable to them. But you - they won't hesitate to kill you. It's all part of their soullessness. Just stay hidden, listen to Blaise. It'll be over before you know it."

He turned to Blaise.

"Be careful."

Blaise nodded.

"Remember Draco, if all else fails, weigh the pros and cons."

Harry nodded slowly, and Draco pressed past, holding Ginny in his arms. When the door swung shut, Blaise turned to them.

"Well, we're following orders, mates. Step lively - "

"You can't tell me what to do!" Ron and Harry shouted childishly together, full of protest now that Draco was gone.

"Ever since - well - you can't tell us what to do! You can't boss us around! What did I ever see in you?" Ron yelled angrily, his ears turning red to match his face. Blaise looked angrily at him. Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances, while Lucien stood nearby, unfazed.

"You can't blame me for your mistakes. You can't pin how your whole freaking world is crashing on the fact that Pretty-Boy Potter doesn't swing your way. Stop taking it out on everyone else - stop obsessing and deal," Blaise growled angrily. Ron opened his mouth to reply, but stopped.

Blaise stared them in the face, realizing how much trouble this would be. He raised his wand, and whispered, "_Imperius."_

Ron's eyes clouded over gently, but Harry gave a shout.

"Hey, you can't - "

"Oh_, you _- I forgot about you. _Stupefy!_"

And the boy was still. Hermione gave a shudder of surprise but stared Blaise in the face, not even attempting to hide her wondrous gaze.

"Get him, and follow us," he said to Ron, who pulled Harry's limp form from the floorboards and continued after Lucien. They had just opened the door when Blaise realized Hermione wasn't following.

"Silly girl," he said quietly, "I don't mean to hurt them. Come on, now, let's go."

He reached down and grabbed her hand, cold and tingly in his, and pulled her after Ron and Harry.

She didn't say a word.

-

The false wall was determinably easy. It gave way quickly and replaced with ease, leaving it dark and dusty in the old, unused back hall. But it took no time to find the little trap door.

Lucien kicked the rug, coughing at the dust. Draco blasted it, watching it evaporate.

"Come on, kid, down the hatch," he commanded Ron, who wordlessly climbed into the hole, pulling Harry after him. Lucien was next, and then Blaise. Hermione stood at the edge of the door, eyes wide.

"There is absolutely positively no room in there," she said quietly.

"Lies.. There is so. What, closterphobic?"

She bit her lip. He huffed.

"Goodness gracious. We'll be out in no time… I'll keep you safe. Here. Take my hands."

Reluctantly, she grabbed his proffered fingers and squeezed them tightly as she jumped down into the sliver of space meant for her. Lucien, who had pushed to the back of the hole, thumped his head against the stone, and said, "Wake me when they're gone."

Blaise chuckled, but leaned sideways against his portion of the wall, quiet as ever. Then he realized Hermione still had his hands, and shivered at the warmth it suddenly gave him. After a moment of silence, he turned to her.

-

Draco closed the trap door after his friends. He vanished it, and eliminated the footprints and tracks of dust in the hall. Then he pulled the stronger Ginny after him, down the hall, until he found the door he felt he was looking for, the third door from the end.

It wasn't furnished much. A Vanishing Cabinet and a sofa or so. He tugged Ginny to him, motioning for her to lie down on the floor behind a loveseat. He huddled behind a chair nearby, hand in his pocket to be ready. Then he pulled something out slowly, and looked around.

The time seemed to span forever. Looking over, he could only see her outline in the hushed blackness. The blindness drove him mad.

"Scoot," he breathed, rolling across the floor. She silently obliged, rolling just enough to shield him. In the rest of the warehouse, various noises reached. Creaking floorboards. Wind sifting through the building. Numerous creakings and shatterings of items as they were broken in search. He pulled his arm around her, squeezing her to his side, pulling a silky fabric over her head.

"Don't move," he said. "No panicking."

She opened her mouth to reply when the door creaked open. Three people slid into the room, kicking randomly at the air, pulling the white cloths off the couches, checking in the Vanishing Cabinet and behind the door and couches. Finally, the leading man sighed and motioned for his boys to leave.

She sucked in a breath and was about to squirm when a low whistle split the air. A hushed murmur slipped beneath the floorboards.

"We haven't looked in here," a voice said. A figure walked up to him.

"We have so."

"How would you know? Every door in this hall looks the same."

"We checked this one, Nott."

"Check again," he snarled.

"Let's not," the figure said calmly.

"Why?"

"Lucius says go."

Draco trembled angrily beside her.

"Since when do you listen to him, Crabbe?"

"Don't make me bust your mouth," he growled.

"Try me."

There was a gentle rustle, and then a sharp cry.

"You there! Let's not have to eliminate both of you. Go."

The rustling stopped. Clunking boots drifting down the hall, but as the door slammed, two feet remained behind. As if gathering his wits, the figure, presumably Nott, stood outside the door, quiet and still. The knob turned.

Silence, however golden, was broken as soon as the door hit the wall. There were so many sounds it was hard to place them all to what, but few made it to her memory bank. For instance, the soft creaking of old floorboards. The slicing of wood in air. Draco's grunt as he jumped up, wand in hand, Nott's cry and snarl of glee. Raw terror crackled in the air, but from who, Ginny couldn't tell. She hardly turned her head when Nott bit out, "So you've tricked them."

Draco shrugged in a so-so movement, a swift twist of his shoulders. Nott smirked.

"Too full of yourself to speak, boy? Why, I remember when that mark of yours was still fresh. Tell me, does it still burn occasionally?"

Finally his mouth opened, moving into its own smirk.

"You must be thinking of someone else, because I'm unbranded, Nott."

The smirk drooped a little on the old man's lips.

"You're lying - I was there."

Draco shook his head.

"You're losing your marbles, old man."

A scarred face twisted from fury.

"You shut up! Show me, then!"

Being careful not to let his guard down too much, Draco pushed two fingers up his left sleeve.

"Bet me," he challenged coldly. Nott, furious fists twisting, lunged for him, coming down on his shoulders. The wild weight shoved Draco to his knees, the man's hands in his hair. With one swift movement, he had Draco's head tilted back, wand at his Adam's apple.

"You can bet your life if you like," he hissed, jabbing. Draco swallowed. He had clearly not planned for this. Hand still partially up his sleeve, his heart hammered, his mind panicked. Out of the solid black, Blaise's voice broke through, hissing, "If all else fails, weigh the pros and cons."

Draco moved slowly, bailing for time. Then, all of a sudden, he snarled and pushed up his sleeve, startling the old man. The shock on his face at the bare white skin was treacherous. As his face fell, Draco pushed up with his weight from his knees, bowing his head to knock the old man's jaw with the top of his backbone. Nott reeled back, stumbling on twisted legs, before falling, so quietly, on his back, head cracking hard.

No sooner had he hit the floor, Draco disarmed him. Standing over him, Nott grinned from snarled lips as he looked into the wand point. Red trailed from the back of his head, but neither of them seemed to notice.

"You couldn't kill me. Your mother couldn't - you can't."

Ginny was so silent he had forgotten all about her. Draco's eyes flashed red, then white. His wielded his wand angrily, his fingers crackling.

"You were never a match to her. You begged her for mercy."

Nott snickered.

"So, are you kindhearted like her? So soft you can't defend what's yours? That's what Potter's mum did - whole crowd of lunatics, that bunch. Why, I bet you'll turn out just like them when you - oh, right, never mind, you'll have no child or family _left _to - "

"_Avada Kedavra!"_ Draco cried angrily, all his fury fleeing as the scream quaked the room. The green jet hit the man's chest, flickering in his face. As the light faded, the green of his eyes glowed with cold aggression, like a cat's.

Her own eyes were wide and staring. He could see the hysterical part of her breaking loose, fighting in surface. He closed his eyes, waiting for the breaking point. But the point never came.

There were no footsteps, not yet. Only glowing green eyes in the dark and shallow breathing. The green glowing skull rose into the sky. They were still out, more were killed. A night of death.

Near the empty pine forest, a fleshy figure emerged from the trees. There, barebacked and eager, was a small herd of thestrals. Draco looked down. The back of Nott's head, which had hit a nail going down, was flooding blood.

-

Blaise brushed his fingers down her face, rendering her motionless, breathless.

"You're a stupid girl, you know that?" he said quietly, stroking her cheek. The room was silent, even as danger progressed upstairs. She touched his jacket, holding him there, spellbound.

"You know, I don't know what you're doing here. You're not supposed to be part of this. This is a mistake that you're making; you're bound to get hurt."

"It's a risk I don't know why I'm willing to take."

He chuckled softly, curving his hand around her neck, pulling her face upward.

"You're full of intellect. Beautiful, studious. You have two very best friends who would die to save you. Yet you're drawn to me - why? You know nothing about me."

She put her head down, relishing the feeling of his hand on her neck as her veins rolled away from his thumbs. His touch seemed to make her tremble - and she did, inside and out.

"You're mysterious. Gentle, quirky, demanding. Friends with a man who tries to hide himself and protect those around him seriously, but you - you don't."

He was silent. She plugged on, full speed.

"You're crazy and confused, you're witty and a smart-mouthed, but intellectual and handsome. You don't seem to - to hide anything," she said again

He looked her plainly in the face.

"You know, if you ever want to hide something, hide it in plain sight."

She looked up at him.

"I always have."

He laughed softly, but stopped, lifting her head. Eyes that had been so dull brightened and, just as the Boy-Who-Lived broke the curse, he kissed her softly.

Lucien noticed first, holding his arms, covering his mouth. Blaise broke away from Hermione, placing his hand gently on the wall, stood like that for a moment, his fingers shaking. Then he whirled on Harry, wielding his wand, and wrapped him in nylon rope, body binding him again. He levitated him, then reached up and threw the trap door.

"Time to go, children."

He clambered out.

-

Draco stared down at Ginny.

"We - " he began, faltering. There was faint beating, and then down the hall he heard the trap door slam. There was a low whistle, a quirky tune.

"I'm - "

The knob turned, simultaneous with Ginny standing.

"Time to go. Any suggestions?" Blaise asked quietly, taking care to draw attention from the body. Draco stared at it. Blaise pulled a sheet from a nearby armchair, pressing it into Draco's hands.

"Come on. It's not your fault."

Draco pulled the sheet across the body, turning in time for Ginny to pass. Gently, he reached out and grabbed her hand, clasping her fingers, but his eyes told her that he was not at all sorry. Then he turned again.

"Blaise, Lucien. Take them back to the school. Use the cloaks."

Blaise looked at him skeptically.

"Cl - ?"

Draco pointed to his pocket, which bulged gently. Blaise winked.

"Ah. Cloaks."

"Watch your footsteps. Leave Herm - "

"No!" Blaise interjected loudly, suddenly. Draco rose an eyebrow.

"Blaise - "

"I can protect her more than you can - you've got enough on your hands. Leave her with us."

Draco scrutinized him.

"Are you sure?"

"More than ever," he answered, unhesitant. Draco shrugged.

"Right. Go."

They grouped up and then were gone from sight, out the door. Ginny had gone to the farthest corner away from the body, sitting silently. Draco sighed, sitting down.

The look on his face was of deep concentration, and her mood of the moment made her hesitant to interrupt. She sat in the corner, eyes glued to the bleeding, dead mass on the floor. She rested her knees to her forehead, her hands holding her calves, and took a deep breath, a deep breath echoed in a sigh as he scrabbled up from the floor. She looked up. He was looking at his work, slowly, and as she stood and advanced, she realized what it was - with chilling amusement, she gazed upon the recreation. The hair was the same, the gleam in her eyes - everything was perfect, even the way her nostrils flared when she breathed. The only thing wrong was -

"She can't talk," Draco stated lamely. She brushed her fingers down the arm, taking in the fullness of the body, the tightness of her jeans. She almost laughed.

"Now I see what everyone sees," she said humorously. Draco smirked, gently. He fingered the curls, before wrapping a hand in the look-alike's hair, and then, eyes still held on Ginny, he leaned her head back, and devoured her mouth, eyes never leaving Ginny's. Amusing as it was, she scowled in jealousy, refusing to watch. He let go and snickered, pulling her into his arms. She had just begun to fight it when his mouth crushed hers roughly, the force knocking her backwards. Her back had just bit into the wall when his mouth ravaged again, pressing back into the prickling walls. She squealed in delight, and wrapped herself around him, eager for a tiny taste, a taste to pass the time.

He broke away, backing off, back to the other her. Ginny only stood, breathless, watching as he backed the fake her toward the fireplace. He chuckled.

"What?" she asked, and he shook his head, fingering a gold chain.

"This fireplace is designed precisely for Floo travel. You step inside, throw the dust, give your destination, pull the chain, the flames come up, and so forth."

"Ah," she said cluelessly.

Then he took the look-alike's shoulders and began to move her shiftily backwards, beneath the mantel.

"Draco?" she asked quietly, hearing a bang down the street.

"It's time to go," he said in response.

"What?"

"It's time to go," he repeated.

He pointed his wand at her, and she was immediately dressed down in new, warm clothes, a wool coat, a scarf and toboggan.

"For all of us," he said.

He pushed the look-alike into the fireplace.

"Where are you sending her?" Ginny whispered furiously. "She could be a good help! A goose chase!"

"She is. I'm sending her to Vatican City," he whispered back. "Alongside Rome - in Italy."

"What?"

"That's where 'you're' going. It's staying in the house it arrives in, soundless. It only takes orders so I'm giving it one. Do I make myself clear?"

Ginny spluttered.

"No counterpart of mine takes orders. We're not your stupid - "

"Ginny, now's not the time to be provoked by rebellion. This is not your little gay study monkey's 'S.P.E.W.'"

"It's not 'S.P.E.W.'!" she spluttered, but her mouth shut as he threw the dust and pulled the chain, watching her spin away. Then he burst through the door, pulling Ginny behind him. As they hit the streets, she looked bewildered and ruffled, and only squeaked as he pulled her roughly along.

"If the others have already - with the cloaks - how are we - "

Draco snatched a broom of a nearby antique store display.

"Oh," she said.

He threw his leg over, pulling her down. As realization struck her, she scrambled away, backing off.

"Ginny, what in hell are you - "

"You can't make me ride that thing - "

" - get on the bloody - "

" - too cold, they'll see us and you've got that dangerous look - "

" - stop being so fucking - "

" - don't be a prick, use your - "

" - the only safe way and you're stalling."

" - you can't, I won't let you, don't be an asshole."

Finally, he looked at her.

"You wanna die?" he asked suddenly, coldly.

All the color drained from her face.

"What?"

He sighed impatiently.

"You know it irks me to say so, but normally, you're a bright girl and I'll need you to get through this. But if you're stubborn, like you're acting, I can leave you here."

She chewed her thumbnail emotionally.

"You don't, do you?" he asked. She shook her head, reluctantly stepping toward the broom.

"Just don't hurt me," she said quietly. He nodded.

"I would never intentionally."

She swung her leg over and pulled her arms around him tight, squealing in fright as he kicked off abruptly.

"Close your eyes," he said, speeding up. She made a gurgling sound and pressed her face into the back of his shirt, breathing in deeply to calm herself. He smelled like chemicals and smoke, cologne and the school that she knew so well. She sighed; despite his hurried, worried manner, he smirked.

A great, deep cry startled him, and as he turned, a jet of orange light flew toward him. He attempted to swerve, but Ginny, behind him, squealed in fright, so he only sped up - but not fast enough. The school before them seemed to grow. He had faith, almost, when he turned his head - half a glance - and the flicker of flames caught his eye. Then he realized, with a groan, his broom was on fire. She tugged at her scarf, hoping to flap and douse the flames, but it was too late - the old, dryness of the broom had given in, and he was slowing down.

The fire had nearly consumed it all, and they were falling, fast. In a last desperate act to get away, he let go of the broom and Ginny screamed, but as he turned, midair, he pulled her close and concentrated…. And then, with a _pop! _they were out of sight, only her screams echoing in the sharp near-dark.

-

McGonagall paced. Dumbledore sat. The office was silent but uneasy, the window wide. His Dark Detectors worked away furiously, rhythmic with her clicking footsteps. Click. Click. Click. Repeat. Dumbledore looked at her.

"Have a seat, Minerva."

She cast an angry, anxious glare.

"No thank you, Albus," she politely turned down.

He shook his head.

"We need to talk about these missing students."

She stopped, and looked at him for a moment, before sitting down slowly on a straight back chair nearby.

"What about them?"

"Are you aware of their... let's say… powers, Professor McGonagall?"

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him.

"I refuse to play games this night, Albus."

He shook his head again, holding up a staying hand.

"I do believe you're familiar with the elemental generation."

She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

"You aren't serious."

He nodded, closing his eyes.

"I got word from Severus before the second semester began, who had a late-night visit with Mr. Malfoy whilst our Ms. Weasley has been missing. It seems the boy's powers have been showing since he met the girl... Hers too. Also, I'm under the impression that Mr. Zabini has one present in his veins."

"Who has what? Certainly not all of them - "

"Oh, you would be surprised how many I've seen evident in them. Ms. Granger, for instance. Mr. Potter, not so much, but it's alive in Mr. Weasley as well as the other three."

Minerva sent him a stern glare.

"I take it you haven't spoken with any of them."

Dumbledore shook his head.

"We'll just have to have a chat with them when they return."

"If," Minerva added. Dumbledore sighed, but his eyes twinkled again.

"When, Minerva. I have faith."

She stood up and began pacing again. For the second time, Dumbledore looked up at her.

"Have a _seat_, Minerva."

"I'm not sitting until those children turn up. A red flicker in the sky, an _obvious_ Unforgiveable cast… Albus, what's to happen if they're in trouble - dead? Death Eaters raid Hogsmeade on a _school_ trip day. An attack. And yet only _those_ children are missing - "

Just then, Kingsley Shacklebolt's bald head emerged from the withering flame.

"We've got something," he said. Dumbledore rose from his seat, crouching before the fire.

"What?"

"A floo-transport to Italy, directly to an estate in Vatican City. We sent Tonks to check. Also - four boys and one girl heading north-eastward, one under the Imperius, one stupefied, the other unidentifiable as one of your students. They seem to be heading - slowly, on foot - in this general direction. We found a broomstick with a burned tail near the grounds, but no bodies or footprints. Oh, and, an unidentifiable body in a back storehouse near Zonko's."

McGonagall gasped in horror, hand flinging to her mouth.

"Oh, Albus!" she cried.

Dumbledore leaned toward the fireplace.

"Whose, Kingsley?"

The bald man sighed, but smiled wanly.

"Fortunately, the Death Eaters lost another."

McGonagall let out a breath of relief, but looked up.

"Who was it?" she whispered.

"His son will be devastated - Nott. The Avada Kedavra - but the thestrals have begun to get to him."

Wheels churned and clicked in heads.

"But where have the children gone?"

"We're somewhat unsure. Like I said, there's a small group heading in this direction. Four boys, one girl. And we have what seems to be a side-along concentrative Apparation. We're guarding the doors."

"How long till the ones on foot arrive?" Dumbledore asked.

The bald black man in the fire shrugged.

"With the rate their going, perhaps, 10-15 minutes."

"Minerva, you go down to the Hall to meet them."

"Yes, Albus," she said."

"I'll let the guard down. Kingsley, you tell all the Aurors to Apparate. If there's any other children, Apparate them back."

Kingsley nodded, a head moving in the fire. Then, with a gentle crackle, his head disappeared and the fire was low again.

Minerva turned at the door.

"Aren't you worried?" she whispered, and in all his years he had never seen her so emotional over their students. Perhaps it was old age, getting to them. He looked at her, steadying his gaze on her calmly.

"Of course," he said quietly. And then she was gone.

-

The snow clinging to their feet made the short journey slippery and clumsy. Ron clambered along, levitating Harry behind him, Lucien bringing up the rear, erasing footsteps as they went. They had to stay close in groups. Blaise and Hermione, Harry and Ron, and then Lucien, who concentrated hard on the prints in the snow. They'd spotted the castle when a figure loomed dangerously in shadow before them. They stopped.

"Who is it?" Blaise asked. Hermione squinted a flash of color seeped into her eyes, but she ignored it, forcing her eyes to work in the dark.

"Lupin. It's Lupin! _Remus_!" she cried, and began to quickly run towards him, breaking from the cloak.

"Remus, it's us!" she yelled. "We're here!"

Lupin spotted her in the brief distance, and immediately looked around, checking for enemies. Then he began to jog toward them, gathering them in a group.

"Gather 'round, hurry now," he said quietly, counting their heads once more. He pulled an item from the depths of his cloak, focusing his wand on it.

"_Portus,_ he whispered to the old empty aluminum can in his hand. Once they were gathered around, their breaths clinging and fogging, they held out their hands to touch it, even Harry, who was still wrapped in rope.

Just when they'd been spotted from the woods, his watch struck _one_ and they disappeared, leaving only a mess of footprints in the snow.

-

They dropped to the ground in the snow, Ginny still clutched tightly in Draco's arms. She had her face pressed into Draco's shoulder, eyes shut.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling back, checking her arms, legs, neck, for bruises, sprains, or cuts. Satisfied that she was unmarred, he pulled her up and headed for the door, which opened immediately.

McGonagall hurriedly pulled them inside, shutting the door.

"Go to Dumbledore's office immed - "

"Minerva, let them breathe. I'm sure Ms. Weasley would like a night to rest and eat, considering her condition. Call her - "

"**Don't** call my mother," she snapped frantically.

" - brothers," he finished quietly. "They haven't had a day's rest since she's been missing. I'm sure they'd like to see her."

But in moments Fred and George had their arms around her, both trying to make light of the situation.

McGonagall's chest seemed to loosen as the second group emerged from the snow, shaking, cold, and tired.

When the doors were barred, the children were sleeping, and Molly Weasley had been secretly notified that her children were fine, and present, and had been strongly urged _not_ to visit until they'd sorted everything out, did he feel relaxed.

**Right, right. Tooootally full of fuck-ups, but it's an update. There are more to come.. Following the author's note explaining my lack-of-updates. **

**There's no song, but the street cred goes to Jo and her boys who make harry potter happen. (I honestly dunno where I'd be without them. Probably reading.. The Left Behind series… shudder. No offense to all you Left Behind readers, just not my cuppa tea.)**

**Yeah, so. **


	21. my excuses

**OMG YOU GUYS**.

I am the sorriest person in the Harry Potter fandom and whatnot.

I told you I'd have updated _by_ Christmas.. And it's February.

But I've been busy. _(Like that's an excuse.)_

I'll give you a couple of examples of the things that have been '**crappenin':**

The first thing, to officially happen, was Christmas itself. My brother flew in.. I had to sing at my church. _But that's no excuse._

The second thing, to happen, was the whole back-to-school thing. _But that's no excuse._

The third thing was Resurrection, a youth convention my church does every year through the middle of January.

The fourth, RIGHT AFTER said youth convention, my parents got divorced.

I had to paint my room.

And the laundry room.

And, of course, the kitchen.

And my brother came back.

My boyfriend started coming over all the time. _(seven months this v-day)_

I.. Er..

….I… lost my virginity, heh.

**OKAY**, so, anyway.

I have written all thoughout school, and gotten the WIERDEST looks from my classmates, who want to know why my paper says 'Dumbledore,' and "Hey, isn't that the old guy from Harry Potter?"

Yeah, so.

I.. Just bit the inside of my mouth and it HURT. **DAMNiT.**

Okay, yeah. If I can ever find enough time, I WILL update a chapter, and then another.

But I realize this fic SUCKS.

I mean, I TOOOTALLY fucked up the plotline.

And what I'm about to do… will fuck it up more.

So bare with me. Or is it bear?

Fuck words.

STICK WITH ME PEOPLES.

-gabrielle


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Title: _Stings Like Fire_**

**Author: _Moi_**

**Summary : Yeah. So. Even I don't know the summary. 'Tis changed. Ginny and Draco are in deep trouble and what with this whole Voldemort issue, everyone is changing like mad. With all the moodswings, weight gains, element clashes and problematic powers, the entire british magic school has gone whack. Read it. Yeah. **

**Mind the typos, beasts.**

* * *

Two days later, when they had shifted back into student-mode, and they had cleared the rumors of Hogsmeade and Ginny's missing ad, they were called to the headmaster's office.

They all sat in a row before Dumbledore's desk, each of them trembling beneath the solid gaze of half-moon spectacles perched precariously on the pitted tip of his nose. Instinctively, Ginny jumped and reached for Draco's hand as McGonagall cleared her throat, beady eyes piercing her bland thoughts. Dumbledore peered down at Draco curiously, who looked down at Ginny's hand, concentrating on not looking up, blocking his mind.

"I'm sure all of you are aware that I would like to know just what's going on," he said calmly. None of them said a word. Dumbledore sighed.

"You have all had quite a day."

Still, they didn't make a sound.

"I've heard each of your stories thoroughly. And I'm aware there's a much, much bigger part I'm not getting from some of you - " he peered down at Ginny and Draco - "and I'm sure the others of you, don't know what you're into."

With this he peered at the rest of them, save Lucien, who'd been given leave of Beauxbatons from his parents, and was resuming his studies at Hogwarts.

"But your friendship confuses me," he said now, startling them by jumping subjects. They looked up at him.

"Draco and Blaise - why, I left you two in the Infirmary, one stupefied and one frozen in his own bathtub. Harry and Ginny - due to past happenings, the two of you've had complications, and now you don't mind each other's presence?"

"I didn't say that," Ginny mumbled, but Draco elbowed her into silence.

Dumbledore's eyes landed on Lucien and Draco, the perfect pair.

"Your childhood keeps you from each other. Yet you help each other out."

Despite himself, he laughed.

"I'm one to talk in riddles, but I have no advice for your future. What it holds is beyond my knowledge - I know only what they allow to tell. This will be a hard journey for you, though, I am sure. All of you."

Ginny was already beginning to cry again, hand on her stomach. She was quite pale.

"Miss Weasley will need all of you to help her over these months. This journey will change all of you - and twist and turn unexpectedly."

His eyes twinkled with knowledge they didn't understand.

"We offer what help that we can," he said, showing his palms.

"Mr. Malfoy, your attitude is changing quite rapidly as you mature. The two of your are marked," he said, speaking to Ginny and Draco.

"Not physically," Draco snapped, mind flashing back to Nott's rotten face. With this outburst, everyone seemed to wake.

"But maybe by your body count," Harry sneered. Blaise gasped.

"_You_ should know _all about_ bodies," he growled, leaning forward.

As if slapped by this landmark they hadn't visited in ages, Ginny wailed quietly.

"Oh, shut up," Ron groaned, leaning back.

"Don't you talk to her that way," Draco yelled.

"Don't treat her like a baby!" he snapped.

"He treats her to protect her," Blaise fought.

"Well if that constitutes as hurting her," he said.

A sick smile glanced Draco's lips, a side they hadn't seen in months.

"I hurt her and she screams for more," he growled, and Ginny leaped up, and the ferocity in her voice nearly caught him off guard.

"I hate you!" she cried; his face didn't change at her verbal slap, but his urge to fight broke free.

"The feeling," he snarled, "is mutual."

She seemed to shrivel beneath his glare, but Dumbledore did nothing to stop her from leaving. The gargoyle replaced and she was gone; Draco told himself he had done nothing to feel guilty. Next to him, Hermione squirmed, staring at him. Draco felt a tick in his mind. He stared back, daring.

"Such a pity Miss Weasley found no comfort in this bunch," Dumbledore said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and before she could stop it, Hermione cried, "It's Draco's fault!"

Blaise let go of her hand and slapped his forehead, taking a deep breath.

Draco merely scowled.

"Her haywire hormones are no fault of mine," he barked, and Hermione jumped, pulling her robes tighter around her as the room grew cold.

"Liar!" she cried, and Blaise slumped further into his seat.

"She wanted out and you pressed her! She doesn't want this - don't you see? She wants to have a normal p-pregnancy as possible. She does all this for you, to save you, and how do you repay her? You - "

"I save her life!" he roared, standing up. "I keep her safe and sound, unscratched. I treat her gentle most of the time. I don't force her into decision. She's a bright girl, and she thinks for herself."

He stood, staring. Hermione folded her legs into her chair; Dumbledore sighed.

"I see we're getting nowhere with this tonight. Go, hurry back to your dorms. We'll resume this on a later day."

McGonagall touched Hermione's forehead as she attempted to follow after Blaise, who was the first out. Draco shuffled past them, with Lucien humming boredly in tow.

"Are you quite alright?" she asked, looking at Hermione quizzically.

"Yes, yes," she hastily replied, breaking loose.

Minerva smoothed the creases of her skirt waistband, following them with curious eyes as Hermione giggled.

"This whole world's gone mad," she muttered. "Just crazy."

* * *

The door was locked tight when he came to it. There was no noise on the inside, only soft silence. The lights weren't on; the room was empty. As he passed the great doors, his eyes traveled to the sky, peering at the stars. He followed his feet to the Astronomy Tower.

There was a seemingly bigger stomach pouch than an hour ago as she sat among the cousins on the floor, her book and parchment resting on cross-legged knees. Her quill scribbled away as she munched on an apple, occasionally glancing at the sky. As he watched, he could tell which were for study purposes and which were just sheer admiration, the sparkle of the stars reflected in her eyes. Just as she sighed, he pulled himself over the lip of the trap door.

"Need the stars for your homework?" he asked quietly.

"They're my light," she replied lazily, scratching away.

"Have you been up here this long alone?" he asked, leaning against the sloped walls. She shrugged.

"I chased Blaise and Hermione away half an hour ago."

He walked down around the room, dragging his fingers over the stone.

"Your brothers are worried, Fred and George. They've been looking for you."

"If they'd look, they'd find me. You did, after all," she said flatly.

"What?" he said, looking at her.

She stopped, looking up at him.

"We don't even know each other that well, do we," she murmured.

He crouched before her.

"We'll learn in time."

"It seems like there's a lot we've got to learn, isn't there? How to be parents. How to control this war raging inside our bodies. How to control our hormones," she said, meaning for herself and the sexual hormones raging inside him, that she could see by looking in his eyes.

She knew what he wanted. And she was only upset that, as far as Hermione had mentioned the night before, she couldn't give it to him, not with her powers rampant like so. She was likely to set them on fire, burn the whole school down if she tried.

"Mmm," was all he said, looking around.

She shook her head, now.

"Did you lose something, Malfoy?" she asked, scanning a passage in her book.

"Surnames already? You must be angry."

She ignored the comment.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you come up here to banter or are you looking for lost pride?"

He stopped, tracing his fingers over the replaced wall, thinking of what Dumbledore had said before.

"I came up to get you."

"Oh, really."

It was quiet. He watched her write.

"And to apologize," he tried. Her ears twitched and he knew she was listening.

"Apologize away," she said, not looking up.

"Listen. I didn't mean that - I don't hate you, the opposite. I care about you."

She finished her paper, closing her book as she rolled the parchment.

"Too bad for my haywire hormones, eh?"

"Ginny, I - oh, come on, did you feel the tension? Everyone was saying things they didn't mean."

Her eyes didn't leave his.

"Not all of us."

"Don't be such a poor sport!"

"Then don't you be my father!"

The silence was dark, and all part of him wanted to do was kiss her like he hadn't kissed her in ages, pressing her into the floor.

"After all I've done for you, you repay me like this?"

She jabbed a finger in his chest.

"Without me you'd be bones right now," she snarled, and her finger felt hot above his shirt.

"An eye for an eye," he said.

"And a tooth for a tooth," she spat, pushing past him. He heard her lower herself into the trap door. He stood, silent and still.

And then he heard the apple smash to the ground, her book hit the floor. Her sharp intake of breath as she screamed, and then -

- a low male cry of pain. Draco jumped through the trapdoor to see two, tall stocky redheaded boys.

"Fred, George," Ginny and Draco said together. Draco instinctively place his hand at the small of Ginny's back, picking up her book. Her hand fluttered at her chest, her pulse uncontrollable, her face fiery red. Fred held his hand to himself, wordless. George touched her arm, then quickly reeled his hand back.

"Merlin!" he cried, hugging his fingers. "What the hell?"

Ginny panted, closing her eyes, fanning herself.

"God, I'm so fucking hot. I need water," she mumbled, and looked up at Fred. "I'll see you two tomorrow, okay?"

They nodded, silent, and Draco pressed Ginny down the hall, to his room that they sometimes shared. He sat her in an overstuffed armchair.

"Here, let me - "

"Draco, stop."

"Ginny, come on, I'll - "

"I just want some water," she snapped, pulling out of the chair, an effort that was easy for her earlier. He watched her with curious eyes as she hobbled into the bathroom. When she turned at the sink, she seemed to be bigger than before, but he didn't say anything, for fear of being slapped.

She leaned against the doorjamb, sucking the glass of water (which he _swore_ had been full) empty.

"And now I'm going to bed," she said, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before she emerged in a large shirt of Draco's. He watched her as she pulled back the covers, easing into the bed. She adjusted the pillows behind her and put her head down, turned the lights out, and then there was silence.

He pulled his jeans down, lifting his hood above his head. Then he climbed in next to her, feeling her warmth across the bed. He rolled to face her back, closing his eyes. There was a gentle rustle, and when he opened them, she was facing him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. She smiled.

"I know. But you'll keep making mistakes, and I'll still keep being mad about them."

He touched her hand, easy warmth flooding through his cold, dry fingers. He sighed. Her face seemed to smooth out, relax.

"I forget how you matched me so well," she murmured. He pulled his hands around her hips, pulling her to his chest as much as he could where he settled them, folded , at her lower back. She sighed into his chest, tucking her hands at her breast between them.

"I…" she started, but he pulled his fingers down her back.

"I know," he said, drifting off, head resting on his pillow, hair dancing idly at his forehead as the fire flickered in the hearth.

* * *

The sun broke the window early on, and when he woke, Ginny was already up, the bathroom door shut. He could see his uniform hanging on the wardrobe, and sighed, cool air brushing his forehead. The window was cracked to let in a breeze, and he figured she was a little warm. He rolled out of bed, knocking quietly at the door.

"Popping out to see Blaise, one moment."

He heard her muffled reply, and sauntered out the door. When he came to it, he didn't knock, but when the door opened, he realized he should've.

There was no end to them, it seemed. Their legs were tangled and their cheeks were touching as they slept, arms wrapped around each other. He kept staring, part of him knowing it was his right to watch, but the other half ashamed, slightly embarrassed to be seeing this. His _gay_ best friend. With a girl. A girl who, Draco decided, was _definitely_ not in that bed for Blaise's image.

He shut the door tightly, snapping the elastic of his boxers to jolt himself. Then he turned back into his room, opening his mouth to tell Ginny, but was greeted by Ron's tear streaked face, Ginny kneeled on the bed beside him, sighing. Neither of them looked up.

"Oh, Ron, it's not like that. People change, and - well, you weren't exactly the most respecting person about it, and you shouldn't have gone looking for trouble, I mean - "

"He took Hermione!" he cried, angry. Ginny sat back.

"I don't see how this _matters_, Ronald, you are _gay_," she snapped.

He looked up at her, ready to retort. Draco rose an eyebrow.

He sidestepped Ron and took off into the bathroom, grabbing his uniform along the way. The best way, he thought, not to draw attention was not to intervene. So while they were going to duke it out, he'd take a nice, long, refreshing shower before classes.

Mid-refreshing shower, the door handle zinged, and he heard a squeal, then a growl as Ginny emerged into the room. He turned off the water and pulled back the curtain, watching Ginny run her hand beneath the tap. Her lip was bleeding and her face was red, but her hands were redder. In the mirror, he swore he saw her eyes change, her pupils widen. He stepped out of the shower as she cradled her palm.

"I am sick of it!" she yelled, pressing her hand against the water. He scooted in beside her, pulling her hand from the tap. He dragged his fingers across the burn on her hand, examining her face, letting the water flake coldly away. Little by little the redness faded, until it was merely a spot, a blemish on the skin. Then he looked at her face again, touching it, turning it. He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"The little bastard fought me! He managed to slap me, but his hands are burned," she sniggered angrily.

She looked in the mirror, pressing her lips together as he brushed the blood from her lip, passing his wand over it.

"No one can touch me," she said quietly, mood changing. He met her gaze in the mirror, letting his hand fall to her shoulder, as if to prove a point. He had forgotten how tall he was compared to her.

"I can. Blaise can, Hermione, too."

She shook her head, and tears that would've rolled poofed off her vermilion cheeks.

"What's that count for? Months and months left of the same old people."

His hand fell from her shoulder as he took up his uniform, opening the door.

"I guess nothing," he said bitterly, slamming the door behind him.

Her reflection seemed to shake its head at her.

* * *

"Now, now, take a breath," Blaise drawled, pulling pants on. When Draco had come back, Hermione was gone and he'd collapsed into an armchair, straightening his tie.

"It's just, she doesn't seem to care. I can't please her - we're constantly neck and neck; we fight about everything now for fuck's sake."

Blaise pulled his vest over his shirt, checking his tie in the mirror.

"Well yesterday you two said some pretty cruel things, if I recall."

"We got over that last night," Draco said, frustrated.

Blaise looked at him through the mirror.

"Did you?"

Draco looked at him, mouth open.

"But we were fine in the room," he argued.

Blaise turned to him, steeling him with a solid glare.

"See? You're just as moody as she is. Calm down, Draco. _We_ are talking, not fighting."

He glared back.

"Are we?"

Blaise sighed, sinking gracefully into a chair.

"Draco, you're so uptight you'd be the richest jeweler if only you had enough coal."

His glare didn't cease, so Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Just be calm. She's irritated and moody - Dumbledore told us that her pregnancy will have some offhand confusion… difficulties, and such."

Blaise held out a glass of water to him, conjured for his thirst, but Draco declined, interested in Ginny's pregnancy. He looked up.

"There's nothing wrong, right? Why did Dumbledore tell you this instead of me?"

"He didn't want to worry you," Blaise shrugged, taking a sip.

"What else is there?"

Again, Blaise shrugged.

"He only confided so much. Hermione and I had a bit of talk last night about the oddness of it. She says that Muggle women don't have schedules like ours. Apparently, our women's pregnancies are complicated and long, full of fuck-ups, mood swings, and sickness."

Draco nodded.

"Physical change, too," Blaise added. "Deformities, swift change, rashes, weird things such as that."

"What about her powers?"

Blaise looked at the ceiling, thinking.

"I can't remember if we talked specifically about powers. We did, however, broach the subject of elements."

"And?" Draco asked smartly. Blaise hushed him.

"She said she only knew a little, and she would research it before lunch, and gather us all together."

"But what about the pregnancy?"

"She said that it depends. In Ginny's case, her hormones will be raging and the heat in her will be unbearable."

Draco thought of what Ginny had said in the Tower.

"She said that she'll harm those around her when she is well, healthy, moody, or physically active, (say, like, during a good shag or Quidditch) and it'll keep up into birth or until deep sickness, or there's something wrong with the baby."

Draco nodded, now thinking of Ginny's hurtful remark this morning.

"Will it go away if she calms down?"

"It depends," Blaise said, stroking the whiskers he wish he had. "I suppose if she wanted them to touch her, they could. It's all in here - " he pointed to his chest " - and here," he pointed to his head.

Draco sighed.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Blaise."

"I can tell," he said honestly, turning his head to his reflection in the mirror. He blocked the kick Draco attempted lazily at him.

"Are you scared?" he asked now, catching his glance in the mirror.

"No," Draco said softly, unhesitant. He glanced at the fire, taking a deep breath.

"I know," Blaise said, and looked at him. "You know, I bet she's kicking herself for that right now."

Draco looked at him.

"You think it was just some mood swing?"

"Well I wouldn't go as far as to say that. But I mean, put yourself in her shoes. You're pregnant. All you want is affection and help, physical and mental, but your hormones are so - so - _off_ that nobody can. Except, you know, the person that can either make or break you, and his gay friend. Plus, you two did exchange some pretty hurtful things last night."

The glare cut Blaise's mind.

"But, my peace is done," he said hurriedly, rushing into the bathroom. Draco mumbled to himself before he opened the door and continued down to his room.

* * *

She was still in the bathroom when he burst back through the door, although she was dressed. She opened her mouth to say something, but he intercepted with his own, wrapping his arms around her. Then he remembered the tiny being between them, alive and conscious. He instantly fell to his knees and kissed it, holding it gently in his hands. She ran her hand through his hair, tugging the ends amiably.

"Dumbledore says I'll grow every day for the next four months. He says I'll be as big as a whale, starting from when the baby was conceived to the four months that it will nourish itself and prepare to leave the body. He says Muggles - "

" - are different than witches, yes. Your pregnancy will be spectacularly riddled with problems and fast change," Draco finished.

Ginny twirled her fingers in his hair, leaning back against the sink. He felt her fingers on his scalp, warm, but not overheated.

_She actually wants to touch me._

"When was it conceived?" Draco asked, curious.

Ginny shrugged.

"November, December, somewhere. I can't quite remember, those days were such a blur."

"July or August. Then you'll be back for school again."

She nodded, now.

"A summer baby."

"A beautiful, summer baby," he corrected arrogantly. "Any reproduction of mine will be suave and handsome, boy or girl."

She laughed, and the laugh settled in her stomach. He rose his ear from her stomach, rising from his knees to look down on her, his breath pooling before her lips.

"I think… that you're going to marry me one day, Ginevra Weasley."

She looked him in the eyes, standing slightly on tiptoe to reach his mouth.

"I think… that you may be right," she murmured, before she pressed herself against him.

* * *

At lunch, Draco, Blaise, Ginny, Hermione, and Lucien met in McGonagall's room. They sat around a lowered table on conjured cushions, eating in amiable silence. Finally, Hermione pushed her plate away and looked around the table.

She opened her mouth to say something, when Ginny voiced something on her mind for the past few days.

"Why are you being so nice and helping us and such?" she blurted. Draco wasn't bothered by this, changing his gaze from Ginny to Hermione, who looked at Ginny, mouth still open.

"Well… I don't know. Because you need me, Gin. And because with this whole thing with Ron and Harry… they're very out of character. Little known or not, I have been siding with you since the beginning."

Ginny cocked her head. And then she remembered the monologue Hermione had given that night in Ginny's room when she had purposely faked sleeping just to avoid her. Hermione looked at Ginny, now.

"I told you that I thought you were changing for the better. That Ron and Harry might not see it, but I do. And I feel like I've neglected you over your years, and now you're growing up (very fast) and you need another female to help you."

"I always thought you were bossy," Ginny said quietly. Hermione laughed.

"I was. I am… but I'm trying not to be. I don't want to be anyone's mother. I just want to make sure you get what's good for you… all the right help in the worst of situations."

Ginny nodded. Hermione cleared her throat, looking around the table.

"Anyway. So, Blaise and I had a bit of talk on this element thing last night."

Their image this morning flew into Draco's head, and he couldn't help but wonder if the talking came before or as pillow talk.

"Anyway," she continued in a slightly higher pitched after all the odd glances were subdued by an angry glare from Blaise, "I did some research."

The table seemed to groan. Draco dropped his head on the table. Hermione, ignoring this, went on.

"It appears you - and Harry - aren't the only ones involved."

Now he raised his head. Hermione dropped a book onto the table, and instantly, everyone sighed.

"Oh, come on, it's not that bad," she snapped.

When she wasn't looking, they shared plaintive glances.

"It turns out everyone has an element, some are just stronger than others. Some believe when Zeus, an old Greek god, still ruled over Mount Olympus, his children had children by humans whose powers were made dormant by the dominant alleles in their DNA. The power resides in their auras, and only recur when their alleles are changed in mutations, or when they were birthed or raised under a strong magical power. There are many who have the same element, and some whose are just a blur, a jumble of power. Some are shared by extreme physical likeness."

Draco and Lucien exchanged glances.

"Some are changed by _extreme_ physical activity and sexual prowess."

She blushed - Draco and Blaise grinned roguishly to each other.

"Some are obtained by knowledge, molded into likeness by temper or manner, or created by magical strain."

"That basically means all of us," Ginny summed.

"Especially you in the temper thing," Draco joked, but caught her hand and held it in his as she reached up to slap him.

"I dunno, mate. I haven't seen mine yet," Lucien said sullenly.

"Nor mine," Hermione agreed quietly.

"I'm pretty sure Pothead hasn't seen his either," Blaise drawled. Draco smirked.

"Careful, Blaise. Cupid'll be throwing exploding hearts at you soon enough."

Together they shared a cackle, but then the laughter died out.

"Ginny's due," Draco now said carefully, quietly, beckoning everyone close, for fear of the walls hearing, "in July or August."

Hermione squealed at the delightful change in subject.

"There's so much to prepare for!" she cried happily.

Ginny's smile faltered.

"What's so down, Red?" Blaise inquired, reaching over to tug a lock of hair.

She shrugged. Beneath the table, Draco squeezed her hand, but then she was fine, opening her eyes wide.

"Okay, so. This whole body thing is the "mood magic". It'll go away when I'm in labor?"

Hermione shook her head.

"It'll be the strongest during labor. But when you've calmed and rested, everything should be as normal as it gets."

She beamed so bright her skin tinged pink. She began to smile around the table, but Blaise didn't meet her eyes - he was staring ravenously at Hermione, who was looking to everyone but him. He had opened his lips to mouth something to her, but Ginny dropped her hands on the tabletop.

"Well, I've got homework. Who's with me?" she said hurriedly.

The entire table stood quickly, save for two. The air around them seemed to tremble; none of them looked back. Walking out the door, Lucien sighed.

"I hope McGonagall doesn't catch them. Can you _imagine_ what it'd be like to walk in on them d - "

Draco held up a hand, freezing the words to his tongue.

"Don't even say it, mate," he growled, closing his hand around Ginny's. "Don't even _think_ it."

Ginny laughed, leading Draco from a flustered Lucien, whose tongue was a metallic pink curve frozen to his lips.

* * *

**OH OH OH who updates now? I DO I DO! **

**Still fucked. Trying to fill in gaps. Sorry. **

**Read another one-shot. It's called Hard of Hearing. Sad. **


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

**Title: **Stings like Fire

**Author: **Gabrielle Howell

**Summary:** You're lame if you're this far

**Notes:** May contain typos. You'll deal. New one-shots out. Look and gimme love.

**Disclaim: **They all belong to Mrs. Jo and her boys at Warner. Read ahoy.

* * *

The month drained. February trickled slowly by, seventh years buckling down for tests as the rest groaned on, shuffling through feet of parchment, fingers aching as quills scratches. Ginny was propped up on the tenth in a window seat, sipping tea as rain dripped slowly down the glass. It was a Friday, and her feet hurt. She didn't care what anyone said, she'd take a slow, gradual pregnancy over daily inflation any day.

She ran her fingers over her stomach, curling down at the bottom while she sipped the cup in her other hand, letting it rest on the under side. She wiggled her feet and cracked her toes, resting her head against the wall in the window seat. Her last class was cancelled; the day waned on as she waited for entertainment, her slowness keeping her from striding about the school. She was about to doze off when the door creaked open, and a brown, somehow not-so-frizzy head slipped through.

"Hey," she said quietly as Ginny peeled her eyes open, letting them rest on Hermione. Cautious, the brunette stepped forward.

"I've brought news from the bulletin board," she grinned, and now Ginny saw the energy and excitement practically coming off her in waves.

"Do tell," Ginny said, raising her eyebrows as she pried her eyes off the outside, the dreary day. She thought she saw Draco, but decided it was a mistake.

"There's going to be a ball on Valentine's Day," she rush whispered excitedly, grinning broader, if such a task was possible.

"I suppose Blaise asked you, perhaps?" she said quietly, and Hermione blushed crimson.

"We decided we don't want everyone to know just yet," she said.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Everyone already knows. If I were you, I'd just get it over with. That's what happened with…" she idly waved her hand at the door, letting the rest of her sentence go.

Hermione nodded.

"I guess we'll just have to see what happens."

Ginny pushed her legs over the ledge, putting her tea on the nearby bedside table. Hermione eyed her carefully as she hobbled to the bed, scooting across the duvet.

"Has he said anything to you today?"

The younger girl sighed, sitting back on the bed. She shook her head.

"Not since this morning. I'm sure you heard that spat we had. Quite hard not to, huh?" she said, tears in her eyes. Through the block she was learning to enforce, Hermione saw the colors flash and change. The tears rolled down her pale cheeks, plump tears that hissed as they touched her face which began to redden.

"Come here," Hermione said, falling on the bed next to her, wrapping her arms around her. Ginny continued to blubber, and the minutes ticked by until she was merely moist-eyed and hiccoughing. She turned her head away from Hermione.

"I keep having weird dreams," she said quietly.

"Oh, Merlin. Now, remember what Dumbledore told Draco recently, it's - "

"Not death dreams," she snapped. Then, softer, said, "About Draco."

Hermione tried to pry her mind, but found it blocked.

"What is it?" she asked quietly, brushing back her sweaty hair.

"Do you think he'll get tired of me?" she whispered. Hermione shook her head.

"It was meant to be."

"I dreamt he found someone else, one time," she sniffled.

"Never," Hermione breathed, running her hand through the red locks.

Ginny shrugged, sighing.

"Not at all, Ginny. Remember, those are just dreams."

Hermione scooted off the bed.

"You're tired. Close your eyes - you'll feel better later."

She excused herself from the room leaving Ginny to lean into the pillows. She let her eyes gaze out the windows, getting more clouded and drooped as she seemed to be lately.

When Draco came in, late, wet, and a large box beneath his arm, she was out.

* * *

When her eyes eased open, the sky was darkening, the sun was nearly gone, and Draco was bent over a roll of parchment. She didn't move; he was hard at work writing whatever and she didn't want to disturb him. But surprisingly, he spoke first, easy, soft, and patient, his mind at ease.

"Feel better?" he asked, scribbling slowly away; for a moment she saw his brow wrinkle, and his shoulders tense, but just as quickly it was gone.

She nodded slowly, blinking to clear her eyes.

"Blaise said Hermione visited you today."

"Yes. We talked."

"So I was told."

Ginny blanched. _Hermione would never tell.. Would she?_

"So. About that ball," he said casually. She wrinkled her brow, scooting to the edge of the bed, but Draco met her, box in hand.

"What's that?" she asked sleepily. He pushed it into her numbing hands.

"A little apology gift," he shrugged, giving a knowing look. Realization dawned on her.

"Draco, these haven't been your fault, I cant just - "

He dismissed it with a wave.

"Yes. And I'm taking you to that Ball as well."

"Oh, really."

He nodded, then gestured to the box in her lap.

"Open it."

"What is it?" she asked, shaking it gently.

He grinned.

"Open and see," he said, eyes strangely twinkling.

Cautious but full of curiosity, she lifted the black lid, pushing aside the tissue paper.

Lying inside was a silk and tulle gown. Its black and white layers grinning up at her as she gasped down at it. She lifted it out, ever careful, before rushing as fast as she could into the bathroom, slamming the door. She stayed in silence for a good ten minutes, the only sounds squeaks of joy and murmurs of contentment.

When she emerged, he couldn't help but smirk at how right he had been when he'd picked it up. The dress fit perfectly to his eyes; hanging her the slippers (for care of her fast, newly-aching feet) and she pushed them over her toes, twirling for his eyes to admire.

The silk was tight and plunging at her thick neckline, tightened with white ribbons at her bust line. From there it humped over the gentle lump that was her stomach, and then fell gently in loose layers around her legs, ending just at the tops of her feet. The layers were slightly uneven, but the white that peeked out beneath seemed classy.

She twirled before the mirror, before he cackled at her precious attitude. She stopped abruptly, giving him a huffy glare, before she turned, unbalanced, on her heel and slammed the bathroom door in his face.

When she came out again, she was re-dressed in loose jeans and one of his t-shirts. He was standing next to the door, head resting on the molding.

"Feeling well enough to go to dinner?" he asked softly, turning the knob. She slipped her feet into her shoes, then followed after him slowly, as if taking care to watch her step.

"Might as well," she sighed, her stomach squirming at the thought of food, but as she sat next to Hermione at the table, her stomach stopped and her mouth began, disagreeing at her voiced lack of hunger.

"Slow down, Gin," Hermione laughed.

"Ron, will you pass me a roll?" she asked, ignoring the older girl as she reached in his direction. Ron handed it to her wordlessly, keeping to himself and Harry, just like they'd been since their little 'adventure' in Hogsmeade. Ginny's growing stomach uneased him, and upon their return she made him swear on his future children he'd never utter a word to anyone about it. Since they'd resumed classes, they had all decided to forget the past and keep on into the future, although Harry never stopped being uncivil to Draco, and Ginny was afraid of being in a room with Harry alone for longer than 5 minutes.

Other girls thought it was wild; after all, who wouldn't want to be in a room with Harry Potter, famous wizard, partial defeater of You-Know-Who? But after all their "history" and the fact that she still couldn't figure out what had made him so nasty, so rude and unforgiving, and sometimes she woke up crying from hell-seeming nightmares with his name all over them. She disagreed. She guessed those girls would find out when they found out; now they were safe as long as Pansy Parkinson had him wrapped up in her.

* * *

The weekend slowly wasted. On Saturday, he took her out to build a snow man, then up to his room for dinner. Sunday, she gravely spent the day with Hermione while they awaited Blaise and Draco, who were called unexpectedly through the fireplace close to noon.

It was now six in the evening. Ginny was curled up on Hermione's bed, studying defense spells (which she wasn't allowed to practice) while Hermione read a book, her old knitting needles out clicking, forming, not hats, but baby jumpers. The room was quiet and cool, but the tension was most definitely there. Although Hermione kept calm and Ginny, not wanting to unnerve the girl, kept silent her worries, the clock still ticked away.

The hour drained, and when seven o'clock struck the timepiece, the two of them came tumbling out of the fireplace, panting, sooty, tired, bleeding, and slightly disoriented, giggling like children.

Ginny was the first to reach them. Hermione was by her side in seconds, and together they dragged them to the bed, checking their wounds. The dirt and grime clinging to their skin wouldn't remove with scouring spells, so they stripped them down and pushed them into the shower, scrubbing their skin with soap and water.

Finally, Draco leaned against a bed post, and Blaise laughed hoarsely.

"What an adventure that was," he giggled. Draco grinned lopsidedly, like he'd been drinking.

"I can't say that's ever happened before," he said.

Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances, sinking slowly into armchairs.

"Tell us what happened," Hermione said roughly. Blaise eyed her.

"You know, I'll save you before that ever happens like that."

Draco nodded, civil and polite.

"Ditto, Granger," he said sleepily, unaware of his manner, and before she could reply, he had collapsed onto the floor. Blaise giggled, his high pitched laughter piercing the stunned silence. Then, as if an 'off' switch had been flicked, the laughter was cut off and Blaise was out.

* * *

For the next twenty minutes, they worked on pulling their sleeping forms up, onto the bed, getting them out of the way to at least look normal. After that task was done, Ginny collapsed back into her armchair, drained. She scratched her nose.

"Where did they come from?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shrugged. "Lucius's hideout, I suppose," she said absently, staring into the fire from which they'd stumbled out of.

"Oh," Hermione murmured. After a moment, she piped back up.

"What do you think we ought to do? Do you suppose we should bring them to Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione asked now, nervously.

Ginny shook her head vehemently.

"Definitely not. They might wake up all bewildered, spouting off things about Voldemort."

Hermione watched Ginny walk over to the bed, brushing back hair from Draco's forehead. She ran her fingers down his scalp before she lifted his head, knotting it in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Suddenly, Hermione had the sense that she, too, was missing something from this whole story.

"Tell me," she said suddenly. Ginny looked up.

"Tell you what?" she inquired suspiciously.

"Tell me what I don't know. Tell me why you're pregnant, why you and Draco stick together even though your families were sworn enemies, and where they just returned from, drugged, dirty, and beaten."

Ginny looked at her, hard. She swayed gently, as if her mind was weighing options, before she dropped, just as suddenly as Draco had, onto the bed beside him.

"Where to start," she muttered to herself. Hermione sat by, waiting patiently, as Ginny took a deep breath.

"They just returned from the lair Voldemort has locked down, I'm assuming. They were most likely summoned by Draco's father, Lucius, or Voldemort himself."

Hermione bit her lip.

"Draco and I stick together because my 'task' is keeping him alive."

Hermione said nothing, and then Ginny bit her own lip.

"You can't say anything about this, by the way," she said, and Hermione nodded seriously, crossing her heart.

"I was supposed to have Harry Potter's baby… it was the only way Draco would live, if I bore a child. When the baby is born, its powers from our "elements" combined were supposed to have _just_ the effect to kill all the muggle-born on this earth if tuned precisely," she said sadly, tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them back, and the older girl said nothing.

"But," Ginny said, giving a watery smile, "it seems teenagers can always find a way to fuck things up."

Hermione smiled, looking at her.

"This is Draco's baby. Nobody knows but, well, us, and perhaps Blaise, and maybe Ron," she said, shrugging.

"Was that what they were talking about? When they came through the Floo? They were talking about the baby?"

Ginny shrugged again. Draco rustled in his sleep, but then was calm, mumbling tiredly.

"We'll just have to see when they wake up."

Hermione stood.

"You're tired. I'm going down to Ron's… you have a nap. Perhaps they'll wake soon."

When the door clicked shut, Ginny curled quietly up at Draco's side. Instinctively, his arm fell across her as he pressed his face into the pillow. Closing her eyes, she fell asleep to the rhythm of three hearts beating.

* * *

They were awake, sober, and talking quietly when Ginny roused herself. It was pitch black outside, and Hermione was passed out on the chaise lounge in the corner. She was afraid to sit up and disturb their conversation, but she was desperate for information. She sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair as she felt the cool rush of energy surge through her body. Then she began to scoot herself across the ed, to Draco and Blaise. They looked up at her, shocked, but Draco made room for her anyway, sitting instead on the coffee table.

"Tell me," she whispered quietly. Blaise caught Draco's eye, and both hesitated.

"Now," she added sternly, although a part of her was panicked. Draco sniffed.

"Well. They think you're pregnant with Potter's baby. They think it's a bit suspicious that you two aren't chums. They figure the more the two of you interact, the stronger the baby's power will be."

Ginny made a face.

"The weapon," she murmured. "Tell me how it works."

Blaise cleared his throat.

"They have a cradle and a magic meter," he began. "They put the baby in the cradle for its weight, and attach wires to its forehead and chest… like a huge web. Then they monitor the power and fine-tune it with their wands however they please. They set a target, direct it, and the target dies from insufferable pain over the course of an hour. It's terrible."

Ginny raised a nervous yet doubtful eyebrow.

"It sounds like a load of bollocks, but it isn't. We saw it happen," Draco added hastily.

"With whose baby?"

Draco swallowed noisily.

"Well, Nott's wife had a baby. She said since her husband died, she's hated it, so she gave it over easy."

"Does she have power?"

They shrugged.

"They detected just enough to kill this prisoner," Draco said uneasily, squirming. Ginny covered her mouth with her fingers.

"Prisoner? You mean…"

"Alexander Chapman was a muggle born. He was dead almost instantly," he told her, quiet.

She gasped, standing up. She covered her eyes as the tears welled in them, threatening to fall. She moved to sit at the desk, pulling out a piece of parchment, but Draco grabbed her wrist in his hand tightly, and shivers went down her spine.

"Let go," she said. "I have to tell F - "

"No telling," Draco growled, careful of Hermione.

"But they were close! I mean, what if you lost Blaise?" she snapped. His jaw set.

"I'm not playing games. You can't say a word, Ginevra Anne."

She looked him in the eyes, detecting the sadness at her challenge, but let it go as she realized how serious this was, falling back onto the couch.

Blaise swished a sip of water in his mouth, sucking it down. When he pulled the glass away, his hands were trembling; the glass shattered, and Hermione jerked awake.

"Oh. You're up - good. I bet you're starved," she said, trying to ignore the secretive scene bfore her. She sat up, slipped her shoes on, and walked to the door, followed by Blaise. "Let's go down to the kitchens and coax something up from the elves," she suggested.

Ginny stared dumbly at her fingers, taking time to wipe away the tears.

"It will be okay," Draco said uncomfortably, taking her hand. She rose from the sofa, and together they followed Blaise and Hermione down the silent, sleeping halls.

"No, it won't," she said quietly. He furrowed his brow.

"Gin," he tried.

She looked at him again, deep in the eyes, and they told her everything she wanted to know. It wouldn't be okay. It would be hard, and full of trials and tribulations. It would be far from easy, and he was watching it come closer.

"And you've seen it too, you know as well as I what's happening," was all she said.

She turned away, and the two of them continued in silence.

* * *

She awoke the next morning with an arm curled around her waist. She rolled to it carefully, hands searching eagerly, but the body she found wasn't Draco's. As her fingers splayed across a deep jaw riddled with fuzz, she opened her eyes and came to face deep alabaster skin and ebony hair so black it glinted blue. He kissed her searching fingers one by one as their sleepy eyes adjusted, pulling her close to him. Somehow, she didn't mind, just pulling in a deep breath of this person she'd only known for a couple months, now so close it was hard to push away. Like a brother.

His lips were soft when he kissed her fingers. She was tired and aching and didn't really mind, drawing her fingers down his arm as he rested, deep blue eyes twinkling, fenced behind dark lashes as he watched her. It took a moment for her brain to hook. Stop. Rewind. Play.

"Wait, wait," she murmured in her half-stupor.

He knew what was coming and laughed.

"I thought you were - "

"I lied."

"Than how do you explain Ron… and Colin? The book I saw you reading? What you told me?"

He shrugged, sighing.

"It was either that or you'd never trust me, gal. And I was experimenting, at the time, with my sexuality. Being gay always appealed to me… still does, a little. But I like girls too much. Even so, those two still hold a place in my heart."

His bare chest rose and fell. Her fingers tickled his neck and he smiled.

"What're you doing in here anyway?" she mumbled against the pillow. He shrugged.

"Draco suggest I keep you company."

"Where are they, Draco and 'Mione?" she murmured now, into his chest as she scooted closer to his warmth. He let his fingers curve over her belly.

"Head boy/girl duties. You know."

"On a Sunday?" she asked.

"You know," he said again. She laughed.

"When are they - "

"Trying to sleep," he said quietly, closing his eyes.

"But when - "

"Ginny, I will shut you up," he warned.

"But I just want to know if - "

"That's it!" he said. Then, before he could stop it, he kissed her.

It was different from any kiss she'd ever had. Her lips opened as pleasure rippled through her, zinging through her veins, to her toes and back. Her fingers curled into fists on the sheets and her body trembled gently, a quiver. His lips were soft, his hand on her stomach a gentle shake. The baby's heart beat sped up with hers, craving air as her body broke away.

He was staring at her.

There was a deep feeling in his eyes as she looked into them, but just as she began to read it, he rolled away, out of bed.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, gathering his shirt and shoes. She watched him stumble.

"I'm sorry," he said at the bed post. And again, "I'm sorry," at the door, before he slipped through it.

She sat back in the pillows as she succumbed to new sleep, wondering what that feeling was.

* * *

Draco passed a nervous, stammering Blaise on the way back. Now he pushed open the door, and his eyes rested on Ginny, whose fingers were still curled in the sheets, whose eyes rolled beneath her lids, whose lips, he now saw, were slightly red, as if burned. His fingers cracked as he curled them inward. His hand on the doorknob felt cold; looking down, he saw the ice before he felt it. He jerked his palm angrily, letting the ice fall away. The door jerked and slammed shut, startling Ginny, who rolled over to meet him but he was gone, in the bathroom, where she heard the water run. Thinking nothing of it, she rolled back over.

* * *

When she woke, the bathroom door was still closed. She could hear the water shifting lazily and approached the door, knowing he was swimming. She knocked, but her only response was the water, so she gently pushed open the door, letting her feet fall on the cold tile.

It was a sight for sore eyes, his rippling muscles, and he admired them silently as he did a lap, pinwheel-turned, and did another. At last, his pace began to slow, and after a moment he stopped, drifting over to her.

She didn't say anything. She just sat down at the edge of the tub, dipping her feet in. She hissed with displeasure and jerked them back, pulling them to her.

"That's freezing," she growled. Draco looked at her.

"Well go get Blaise and the two of you can heat it right up."

With that he pulled himself out of the water, grabbing a towel. She stopped him at the door, but he could barely see her through the building steam.

"_He_ kissed _me_," she growled, but he only shook his head and reached for the doorknob, instantly withdrawing as the hot metal sizzled his skin.

"Well I don't go inviting all the girls who throw themselves at me to go 'round," he replied coldly, throwing his towel at her. The moment it hit her raised hands it burst into flames, wide and crackling, leaping out. She didn't scream, and although he panicked he saw no fear in her eyes, only bright light, a seemingly hell-bent figure trapped inside, dying to get out.

Just as suddenly the towel was in the water and the steam was rising, and the light in her eyes was gone.

"It wasn't like that," she whispered, falling delicately into a chair.

He turned quickly and silently, fleeing the room before she caught him aflame.

* * *

Near noon Blaise met Ginny and Hermione at the foot of the steps, escorting them into the Great Hall. Hermione stood between them, and Blaise said nothing to Ginny.

She didn't eat. She sat, stock-still and calm until the post came, bearing a letter from her older brothers. She was silent, tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them back as Hermione leaned over her, scanning the papers.

"What does it say?" she muttered absently, eyes raking over the words.

"Bill's gone," she said quietly. "So's Percy. Nobody's heard from Bill since he and Percy were last seen together, here. Charlie's worried. He said the last time he was in, Lucius was making frequent visits to Percy's office. Then, suddenly, he vanished. They're a little upset."

The older girl looked at her.

"Percy and Lucius?" she whispered. Ginny thought back.

"Come to think about it, I remember Percy saying something to Draco about Lucius. It was back at Thanksgiving, before the attack."

Hermione bit her lip.

"What about Bill?" she asked, but Ginny shrugged.

"He has access to money… he's smart…he's dad's pet," she said quietly.

"He's a pawn," Hermione decided.

"So it would seem. What if they've hurt him, Hermione?"

"Aw, Ginny, Bill's too smart for that," Hermione assured her, but her eyes lied, and Ginny shrugged again.

"I'm going outside for a bit," she said.

Next to them, Ron eyeballed Ginny for a moment as she made her way to the door. When she had gripped the table to stand, the wood was black and charred.

* * *

Draco pushed open the door, and immediately saw her sitting at the lake, hands knotted in the grass. She was thinking, he could tell, so he sat at the foot of the stairs, but then stood and approached her. He didn't make a move to sit, but only stood beside her, silent and sorry.

"They have Bill," she said before he could say anything. "We have to go."

"Bill? Go where?"

"To see Voldemort. They have my brother, Draco."

"How do you - "

"I got a letter," she said. He looked at her skeptically.

"A letter."

"Nobody's seen him since your dad broke loose."

He said nothing.

"Draco, I need to know where they are. I don't care what the risk is - Bill is unsafe, and I know it."

He looked her in the eyes, and saw the tears she fought to keep back.

"Alright," he said quietly. "But - "

"_Draco!" _

A brown head bobbed toward them. Draco sighed impatiently.

"They just sent a notice - your mum is at Grimmauld Place."

Ginny looked up.

"Why?"

"The Order… she's there talking to Dumbledore," Hermione gasped.

Draco took Ginny's hand, pulled her up, and ran toward the building. He didn't stop at the dorms, but continued on to the gargoyle, barking the password. At the office, he pulled Ginny into the fireplace. Immediately, he threw the dust, pulled her close, and cried, "13 Grimmauld Place."

* * *

They stumbled out of the fireplace together, in the drawing room off the foyer. Draco accidentally fell sideways as they emerged, knocking a vase into the floor with a crash.

"Draco, good Lord, you have to watch out, I mean.. you never know what could be lurking in there… look what you did! Clean it up, come on… why are we here"

As she babbled she brushed the soot from her jacket, unaware of the lock that was being turned at the doorway before them.

"…don't see why…"

"Ginny?" came a horrified whisper. Ginny stopped brushing, but didn't look up.

"Hello, mum," she muttered, finally standing straight. At the sight of her stomach, Molly fell back onto the floor in a faint. Narcissa ran in when she heard the bang. Upon Molly's collapsed figure, she traced her eyes to Draco, and then to Ginny's body; in seconds, she too was out.

* * *


End file.
